Harry Potter and The Iron Lady
by mugglesftw
Summary: Even muggles notice thousands dead, and Margaret Thatcher had the help of one Sergeant Prewett of Her Majesty's Special Air Service. Harry Potter is taken in by a loving family, and raised to become the hero of both worlds. Even as he enters Hogwarts looking for friends, he is confronted by the darkness in the wizarding world. Now complete! Sequel: Nymphadora Tonks: The Last Auror.
1. Prologue

_This document beta'd by the generous LadyDisdain2014_

 ** _Harry Potter and the Iron Lady_**

 _Prologue: The Iron Lady_

It had been another long day and was looking to be a long night. The Prime Minister sighed and rubbed her forehead, at an utter loss as to what to do. For the past ten years, Britain had been at war. Not with the Soviet Union, not a Cold War; but a hot one, a Civil War the likes of which was recorded by no history book the Prime Minister had ever read. You wouldn't know it from the news. Strange deaths and murders were reported, as were bizarre natural events, but no war. That was because it was a war that was fought not with guns, planes, missiles and tanks; but with magic.

Magic. Margaret Thatcher loathed magic. As a child she had been fascinated by fairy tales, and had dreamed of finding fairies or enchanted rings. But when she'd become PM, she'd found out that magic was very real. And rather nasty.

Her predecessor had been powerless to stop the war that had been going on since 1970, a war waged by a dark wizard named Voldemort, but whom the so called "Minister for Magic" insisted on referring to as "you-know-who." So far, Thatcher had been equally powerless to end the war. She was determined to do better, but had no idea how to do so. Most technology was ruined by even close proximity to magic, and wizards seemed impervious to all laws of nature. Thatcher was frustrated by her powerlessness. She was the most powerful woman in all of Britain, save for perhaps Her Majesty, and yet she could do nothing to prevent the hundreds of deaths that she knew about which had resulted from the magic war.

There was a loud pop, and the source of most of Thatcher's irritation herself appeared. Minister for Magic Millicent Bagnold. The woman was even more disheveled than usual, but after a moment's examination, Thatcher realized the woman was clearly drunk and beaming with happiness.

"Oh Margaret, we've won! It's over, this bloody awful war is finally over!" the woman nearly shouted, stumbling over and giving Thatcher a clumsy embrace over her desk.

Stiffening, Thatcher stood and set the witch on her feet. "What do you mean, we've won? Are you saying you've finally defeated Voldemort? How? What forces were involved? Can you finally give me a dispensation of your forces and capabilities? What resistance will linger?"

A look of sadness came over the Minister's face, and she slumped uninvited into a chair that she flicked over with a wave of her wand. "You-know-who attempted to murder a family early this evening. Lily and James Potter, two of our best. They resisted, but he overcame them. When he got to their child, a boy of only one, somehow his spell rebounded. He defeated himself, in the end, though we still don't know how."

Taking a moment to think, Thatcher carefully sat back in her own chair. "I see. And the rest of his forces? I was led to believe they were quite extensive, and powerful."

"Oh we're sorting it out now," Bagnold declared, waving a hand with a dismissive air. "Without the Dark lord they've scattered. They are no threat now."

 _That's what many a woman has thought after cutting off an adder_ _'_ _s head, only for the severed thing to bite fatally even in it's death throes._ Thatcher thought, but outwardly she smiled. She was relieved, perhaps this nightmare was finally over.

It wasn't. A few nights later, Bagnold was back to discuss the capture of Sirius Black, a terrorist in the service of the Dark Lord who hadn't given up the fight. He'd assassinated a wizard, and twelve civilians who the Minister gave the disparaging label of "muggle," a word that always irked Thatcher. Bagnold admitted that more attacks would likely follow, but that "the Auror's would soon have things sorted out."

As Thatcher climbed the stairs to her bedchamber, she noticed a new young man with red hair on guard duty in the uniform of the SAS. Though normally metro police handled the guarding of the MP, with the "terrorist threat" SAS had stepped in to bolster her protection.

"Bloody wizards and their bloody magic," Thatcher snarled, thinking it was under her breath. It was, out of all the other universes, just a tad louder than she'd intended. And out of all the universes, someone's second cousin, instead of becoming an accountant, had become a soldier instead.

"Magic, ma'am?" The soldier said, somewhat shocked. "You don't mean the terrorist...no, sorry. Forget I said anything ma'am. First day on duty and all that."

Thatcher read his name tag, Corporal Prewett. "Corporal, what do you know about magic?" she demanded.

"Oh, nothing ma'am. Just children's fancy, stuff and nonsense really," Prewett answered nervously. The man was obviously lying.

Thatcher's eyes narrowed. "You mentioned the "terrorist" attack today. But it wasn't a terrorist attack, was it?"

"Er, then what was it ma'am?"

"Magic. Tell me truthfully, yes or no. Do you know about magic?"

Ten minutes later, Corporal Prewett and Thatcher were alone in her office, having a whispered conversation over gin and tonic.

"I"m a squib ma'am. That's the offspring of a normally magic family that hasn't any. Magic, I mean. It's rare, in the blood you know." Prewett was gazing into his still untouched drink, a sour expression on his face. "I know about the war. Plenty of squibs killed by that right old bastard. I can at least defend myself, went into the paratroopers for a reason I did. A gun can kill a wizard dead, same as any man. True, if they know what they're doing and you don't get the drop on them it can be a devil of a thing, but a bullet's a bullet."

"Really?" Thatcher asked. "A bullet can kill a wizard? How hard would it be for someone without magic to kill a wizard?"

"Not that hard, actually. That's why they went into hiding, us 'muggles,' the non-magical folk that is, were wiping them out in the medieval times. Bows and arrows, swords, fire, all that can kill a wizard or witch, especially if they haven't a wand. Guns would give them even more trouble I should think."

"Then why haven't they involved us against these dark wizards!?" Thatcher demanded. "A few people with the right know-how could have saved the lives of thousands over the last ten years. We could have developed countermeasures, protected our civilians."

"Truth be told, I think the wizards still think we're in medieval times. They don't know anything about modern weaponry or electricity in general. Most can't even drive a car or operate any sort of machinery. The really complex stuff shorts out when wizards are around it too much, but most if it still works. I don't know why really, I grew up around magic, but when it became clear I was never going to be a wizard I was disowned. Sent off to a private school. I was so bitter about it I nearly became an accountant of all things. But well, there was this girl, and she was sweet on soldier boys, so here I am. Married her three months ago actually."

"Indeed. This bears further investigation. Corporal, I want you to find more of these 'squibs' and any other open minded sorts who would be interested in a new magical task force. If there is another wizard war, I don't want us unprepared for it."

For a moment, Corporal Prewett hesitated. This went against everything he had been raised to believe. But then he remembered all the Christmases spent alone, the cold reception from his family, and the way everyone he had once loved looked at him now. Like an animal. Prewett the accountant would have taken it. Prewett the soldier was ready to stand up for himself.

"I'll do it ma'am."

 _AN: Corporal Prewett is being overly generous in his estimates of why wizards went underground, but the fact remains that quantity has a quality all its own, and even wizards can be overrun. This brings us to this story's theme:_

 _Muggles: Hell yeah._


	2. Chapter 1

_This document beta'd by the generous LadyDisdain2014_

 _Chapter 1: It Shouldn't Hurt to be a Child_

One year after the end of the First Wizarding War, then simply called "The War" by the majority of the magical community, the savior of magical Britain was squalling in a broom cupboard under the stairs. He was alone, again, as his supposed caregivers doted upon their brat of a son. Dudley was crying because one of his toys had been taken by his two year old cousin. The boys were of an age, and it was perfectly natural that the young Harry Potter had wanted to stick one of Dudley's abandoned blocks into his own mouth to see what made them so fun. Dudley was spoiled rotten by his parents, and hated to share. When he cried, they placed all the blame on little Harry.

Mr. Dursley had warmed Harry's bottom, causing the toddler to squeal, and Mr. Dursley's hand to suddenly inflate like a balloon- leaving it rather ineffective as a paddle. Harry had been shut in the closet, Dudley consoled with biscuits, and Mr. Dursley with a cold beer. Petunia Dursley was doing her best to pretend that she didn't have a magical nephew, and knew nothing at all about magic in general. All in all, it was a typical day for the Dursley's.

"You're sure about this? Doesn't look terribly magical here to me, Sergeant," Major Thomas McAllister, Special Air Service, remarked as the car pulled into Privet drive.

"That's because it isn't. Young Potter was adopted by his only living relative. Petunia Dursley. Husband's a drill maker, she's a housewife. They're norms, just like you and me," Sergeant Charles Prewett repeated for the officers sake.

Thomas grunted, nodding in understanding. He had no experience with magic in practice, but in theory the Special Air Service and Britain's other special force branches had known something was up since 1971, when the first major magical massacre had occurred. Personally, Major Thomas had lost a brother to the Wizard War. His brother had been a norm, but that hadn't kept him out of the dark wizard's line of fire. Getting a special dispensation from the PM to actually do something had been a Godsend. Already several detachments, working in absolute secrecy, had been formed to investigate magical countermeasures and tactics.

As it turned out there were a few squibs in Britain's armed forces who had been rather forthcoming about the magical world when assured they wouldn't be given a psychiatric discharge. Already Britain's norms, as they had taken to calling themselves, were far better prepared for another conflict from or with the magical world. One step along that path was young Harry Potter, the only individual to survive a magical assault from the so-called Dark Lord. If he could be studied, in a humane, controlled way, perhaps they could gain some further advantage.

Sounds of young children's wails were clearly audible from the drive as the car pulled up. Both men were in civilian suits, not uniform, and Sergeant Prewett grimaced at the noise.

"Oh come off it now lad. That's the sound you'll be getting used to in just a few years, eh? Once you start having your own," Thomas said, grinning ear to ear. He had a young daughter at home, Rebecca, who had gone through her terrible twos with great gusto. "They've got another lad, Dudley, don't they? I imagine the two little tykes get along famously."

"Sounds bloody like it," Prewett muttered, provoking another chuckle from the major.

When they knocked on the door, their only greeting was a great bellow from inside. "WE DON'T BLOODY WANT ANY, GO AWAY!"

That provoked raised eyebrows from the soldiers, but the major bellowed back even louder, "WE'RE FROM THE GOVERNMENT, SIR. YOU'D BETTER COME ANSWER THE DOOR YOURSELF OR I'LL BREAK IT DOWN BY GOD!"

There was the sound of a scuffle inside as the children's cries intensified. A loud banging could be heard, along with mutters of "Stuff it you little menace! Feed and clothe you and this is all the thanks I get? Bloody magic!"

The joviality on the major's face vanished, replaced by a brief stormy scowl that smoothed into a neutral expression. The Sergeant inwardly flinched, then schooled his face into an equally neutral expression. To most, the soldiers' faces would look blank, but to a careful observer the truth behind the masks could be discerned: it was a killing face.

The door opened to reveal the rotund and flushed Mr. Dursley. "Yes, what is it? You've upset the children, making such a bloody racket. Just what the devil do you think-"

"Mr. Dursley, we're with the NSPCC. We've come to investigate reports of child abuse at this residence," the Major stated, causing Dursley to go suddenly pale. "You are Mr. Vernon Dursley, are you not? We're here to see about your nephew. Harry Potter."

A few minutes later, Sergeant Prewett was taking a statement from Petunia and Vernon, while Dudley continued to cry. Harry had stopped as soon as the major had picked him up, and was now hiccuping as the big Scott carefully dried the young boys tears. A quick inspection of the child showed bruising both old and new on his legs and buttocks, an old scar in the odd shape of a lightning bolt, signs of neglect, and possibly malnutrition. The lad was underweight and filthy, as if he hadn't been washed in days. His hair was matted with grease and filth, and the clothes were soiled due to lack of changing.

"Have a look at the other one, Sergeant," Thomas ordered, his voice cold.

The Dursleys babbled their story, odd happenings, the boy was cursed, he was a monster who tormented their lovely son. Thomas had Dudley pegged as a spoiled brat as soon as he laid eyes on him, an overweight pig of a boy who had received all the love and care Harry had not.

Thomas' voice shook with barely contained rage as he put the now content Harry back on his shoulder. "Write them up, both of them. The lad comes with us. Leave the pig."

"But we-"

"I hear another word out of your worthless mouth Dursley and I'll damn well knock your teeth out. I don't care if the boy did make your hand swell with magic, as foolish a story as that sounds, you certainly deserve that much and worse. The boy has been beaten and locked in a small dark room without proper care. Be grateful your son seems to be in good health, so I don't question your ability to parent wholly. Obviously your nephew isn't wanted here. We'll find somewhere he is."

"I'll need to see a badge at least, I can't have a stranger taking my beloved nephew away without proper papers," Vernon Dursley managed, though he seemed to choke on the 'beloved.'

The papers were produced, as were the badges. The SAS was nothing if not prepared, and the men had initially planned to come as NSPCC agents here to award the Dursley's a cash prize and an invitation to an exclusive clinic for check ups on Harry. They also had badges for Metro Police, and their own military IDs. Real NSPCC agents would be on the scene shortly for a more thorough assessment, but Thomas wasn't leaving Harry there another minute. Whatever idiot had placed him in this abusive hell hole was on Thomas' permanent shit list. There was no excuse to put a child in an abusive home. Not ever.

"You did what?"

The PM's voice sounded shocked, and a little irritated at the Major, and Thomas grimaced at Prewett, who was giving young Harry a little milk that they'd picked up at the gas station on their way back to HQ.

"He was being abused. Beaten, left to scream his little head off in a dark closet and not cleaned or fed properly. I couldn't leave him there ma'am, I'm sorry."

There was silence for a moment, then, "Well, then I suppose it's for the best. Are those...people...being investigated?"

"Yes ma'am. Though to be honest, they did have at least some reason. The lad obviously has magic. Vernon Dursley's hand was swelled up to three times it's normal size and made silly squeaking noises like some rubber toy. I can understand their fear, but to take it out on the child is wrong. He can't help it."

"Should we find a magical family to take him in then? The must know how to deal with such things," Thatcher asked.

Sergeant Prewitt chimed in. "Not necessarily ma'am. Many magical children are raised by mu-, ah, norms. Often unawares. Most people just blow it off when magic does happen, which is fairly rare. As long as the child is well taken care of there shouldn't be any issue, he can be placed with the NSPCC to find a good home."

"Actually ma'am, I think I might take the tyke in. My wife and I...well, we have a little girl, Rebecca. She's three, and the light of my life, but we wanted a son as well. We...can't. The pregnancy was complicated, and the doctors say that having another child would likely kill my Alice. Taking Harry in wouldn't be any trouble at all for us, and I guarantee he'd receive better care. I'd treat him like one of my own, I swear it. Even if he does inflate my hand like a balloon."

"And tactically, it would make sense as well," Thatcher agreed. "We'd be able to test the boy all we wanted, and perhaps raise up a wizard on our side."

"True. Apparently the lad is something of a hero to the maggies, or so the sergeant tells me. I hate to think of a child as a tool, but it could work to our advantage."

"Not to mention that he needs a good home. Very well Major, we'll see to it that the proper papers are drawn up to make everything legal. Will you be needing any assistance?"

"Short term yes. All the things I've got for tykes are for girls, and wouldn't be proper for a lad like him. We didn't get any clothes or anything for him from the Dursley's, not that I would want the rags they seem to think appropriate. I can get some nappies and clothing for the lad, but it would cut into our budget quite a bit having it come out of the blue. The rest isn't an issue, we've plenty of room for another child in our home, and we've still got Becky's old crib and such."

"Do it then. At least some good has come out of all this mess today. One child will sleep a little safer tonight. Good work Major."

A few hours later, Thomas arrived home with Harry at 2 Whetton Road, Martins Heron. Rebecca ran down the steps, squealing with joy to see her father home. Smiling, the major set down the rather uncertain Harry and hugged his daughter. "Becky, this is Harry. He's going to be your little brother. Give him a kiss love."

The little girl obliged, which resulted in Harry deciding he didn't like this place after all, and beginning to squall and say "No more no more!"

"Oh someone's a bit cranky I see," Alice cooed, coming over to scoop up Harry, who only cried all the more.

"I don't think he's used to having someone hold him," Thomas said quietly, picking up Becky so she could get a better look at her new brother. "We found him locked in a broom closet."

"And I suppose I'm not supposed to be asking any questions about why you were poking about in broom closets kidnapping little boys am I?" Alice teased. She was used to the military secrecy, though it did irk her from time to time.

"There's a team coming by tomorrow to debrief you. Raising little Harry could be...interesting. Still, we've wanted a son, and that's what's best for the lad. Government's sending over the legal adoption papers soon. Apparently his supposed family couldn't wait to be rid of him."

"Well it's settled then. He's home. Harry McAllister. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think? Come on then, let's get this one to bed. He's had a long day. Hopefully he doesn't mind a pink onesie. Come on love, let's go."

Together, the newly expanded family walked inside, to a new future.

"What do you mean, Harry Potter isn't with his mother's family anymore?" Dumbledore demanded. "It is of the utmost importance that he stay with that family, despite the circumstances."

"Look, I'm sorry Albus, but I told you that family was awful. Someone called the NSPCC. They took him away from the house before I even knew what was happening," Ms. Figg said, clearly exasperated. "I told you that the whole thing was a bloody mess to start with. Those awful people! Abusing a child like that. Still, you should be able to locate him fast enough and find a way to get him back if it's so important."

Months passed, but Dumbledore had little success in locating Harry. Harry Potter it seemed, no longer existed. His documents were sealed by muggle courts, and when Dumbledore attempted to use Legilimency on those involved, he soon discovered that the agents who had taken Harry were nowhere to be found, apparently false names no one had ever seen or heard of. The files lead to a dead end, with Harry's apparently being mis-filed, switched with those of another boy of the same age. That boy's records would almost certainly lead to Harry, but they were destroyed when an office water main broke and the building flooded. Despite the headmaster's best efforts over the next nine years, he was completely unable to pierce the veil of secrecy surrounding Harry's current location.

The one ray of hope was that Dumbledore's wards told him that Harry was quite alive and safe, and somewhere still in England, though where he could not be sure. In some ways that was comforting. He'd almost certainly been taken by the muggle authorities, and there had simply been a paperwork mix up. At the same time, it was utterly disturbing. Where had Harry Potter gone, and what would happen when he was found? Without the blood magic to keep him safe, the Boy-Who-Lived might quickly become the Boy-Who-Died.


	3. Chapter 2

_This document beta'd by the generous LadyDisdain2014_

 _Chapter 2: The Vanishing Glass_

"But mum, why does Harry have to come! It's MY birthday, and I want MY friends to be there, not my smelly brother."

"Who says I want to go?" Harry grumbled. "Just leave me home. I can watch the wireless and play on the Nintendo. Duck Hunt is better than the stupid zoo anyway."

Becky stuck her tongue out at Harry, and he replied in kind. Rebecca was turning ten, and Harry's ninth birthday was two months away. Both children were in quite the mood, having gotten into a fight over who got to pick what TV show to watch the night before. Harry had wanted Doctor Who and Becky had wanted Dooby Duck. Both children had been sent to bed with no telly and no sweets, and each blamed the other. In reality, both children had been behaving quite badly, and rather deserved their respective punishments. Of course, from a child's perspective it was all tremendously unfair. But as their father said, life was tough, and then you grew up. Whatever that meant.

"You're both going to the zoo, and if you don't both stop it this instant you'll be holding hands the entire time. Don't give me that look, your father will be there and you both know he'll make you do it."

A sudden idea struck Harry, and he began to rub the lightning shaped scar on his forehead. "I think my condition's acting up. I think I should stay home. Perhaps you should call Dr. Patil."

His mum just rolled her eyes. "You had a visit not a week ago and the doctor said you're just fine. Unless I see blood, barf, brains or breathing I'm not buying it. Now come on, you were both mad to see the animals yesterday. It's about time you kissed and made up."

Becky brightened considerably when her best friend Amanda arrived. Amanda was a kind young lady with sunny blond hair and a winning smile that managed to make even Harry momentarily forget his troubles. Then it was into the car and off to the zoo, where Amanda seemed to ignored Harry in favor of her friend. Harry once again decided the whole thing was a sinister plot to make him miserable and began to sulk.

When they arrived at the zoo both girls immediately made for the reptile exhibit. Amanda's father was a snake lover, and had several fascinating specimens at his house. Harry rather enjoyed visiting Amanda's house, and from time to time he swore he could actually hear the snakes talk. He'd mentioned it to his mother and father, but that had just resulted in a visit with Dr. Patil.

The visits really weren't that bad. Dr. Patil was a funny little man from India who always had jokes and sweets for Harry. Still, he felt like he'd done something wrong whenever he visited despite his parents assurances. Everyone said it was perfectly fine and they loved him very much only they worried about him so and if anything odd ever happened he should tell them right away. They never told him snakes didn't talk, even though Harry knew they didn't, or yelled at him or blamed him. But they did look very worried, and Harry couldn't bear the thought that he was causing trouble for his parents. Well, most days he couldn't. Today that might actually be fun. Still, he couldn't quite bring himself to mention his dream of a flying motorbike. He hated that look his mum got whenever his condition was acting up. He'd be good. Or try to be anyway.

Becky and Amanda made for an exhibit with a truly massive snake inside, which was sleeping lazily on the bottom. Trying to impress the girls, Harry proclaimed, "That's a decent sized python, but I think the one they've got in London's bigger."

"It's not a python stupid, it's an anaconda. See, the sign say's it's from Brazil, pythons are from Africa."

"Rebecca Alicia McAllister! You come over here right this instant!" their father bellowed, his tone brooked no delay or disagreement.

"Rotter," Becky grumbled, and stomped over to their father, who immediately began to dress her down for calling her brother names.

"Birthday girl or not, there's no need to be picking on your brother! He's only trying to be nice and make up."

"Was not! He's a little show off!"

"Young lady I-"

"I don't think you're an idiot," Amanda said quietly, giving Harry a bit of a flustered smile.

Harry flushed and hung his head. He hadn't been trying to make up, and he had been showing off. He knew he shouldn't, and now Becky was in trouble. Somehow, that didn't actually make him feel any better.

"Sometimes I think I can understand snakes. Hear them talk, I mean," Harry blurted, not able to think of anything to say and feeling rather embarrassed.

"I know what you mean," Amanda said, nodding enthusiastically. "Sometimes it feels like the snakes are talking to me too. I know it's all just pretend, but it's fun."

"No, really, I think I can hear them. They mostly ask for mice and hot rocks. Honest, I'm not lying."

All of a sudden, the anaconda seemed to perk up. It raised it's head up and looked right at Harry.

"Wow! Maybe you can really talk to snakes. Make more of those funny hissing noises Harry."

"What funny hissing noises?" Harry asked, confused.

"Hey, amigo. You ssspeak my lingo, si?" a soft voice said, and Harry whirled to find the snake at eye level with him.

"I...I guess. I can understand you anyway," Harry said, shocked that he really was talking to a snake.

"Omigosh Harry that's amazing! Do it again!" Amanda squealed, jumping in place and turning to Becky and Mr. McAllister. "Look look, Harry can talk to the snake and make it sit up!"

The tongue lashing halted abruptly, and in a flash Harry's dad was at his side. "Really? Do show us Harry. I've never talked to a snake before."

"Um, OK. What's your name Mr. Snake?"

"Jose the Anaconda. Well, Joe. I wassss born here in England, but I've alwaysss wanted to see Brazil. Can't though, thissss invisible wall keeps me in."

"What, you mean the glass?" Harry asked, giving the pane an experimental thump.

Jose nodded. "Yesss, that. Glasssss you sssay? Hmmm. I alwayssss thought it wassss magic."

"Nope, not magic, just glass. We've got loads of it at home."

"I sssee." Just then, there was a thump at the back of Jose's cage, and a zookeepers gloved hand with a frozen rat in it appeared. "Nicce talking to you. Come back ssssoon, getsss boring here. But it'sss lunch time! Adiosss."

With that, Jose turned away and followed the gloved hand into the hidden back of the cage.

"That was brilliant Harry! Brilliant!" Amanda said, giving Harry a big hug. "Omigosh you've got to do that at home! Dad would flip!"

"Perhaps later, Amanda. Feeling alright Harry?" dad asked, giving Harry's hair a rub and feeling his forehead.

"Yeah fine." Swallowing, Harry turned to Becky. "Sorry about being a show off. Happy birthday, sis."

Becky nodded, wiping away a tear from her puffy eyes. "Thanks. Sorry about calling you an idiot. Evens?"

"Evens. Come on, you can show me what a real anaconda looks like."

As the children ran off, Alice came up to Thomas, her face pale. "Was he really talking to that snake?"

Thomas nodded grimly. "Aye. I think so." His Scottish accent was thickening, a sure sign he was worried. "But we'll let it go for now. No harm done. They're just kids, Amanda was telling him she pretends to talk to snakes all the time. No one will notice if they say Harry can talk to snakes. Kids making up stories and playing pretend. Even that funny hissing noise is something a kid would do, don't you think?"

Alice nodded, then rested her head on her husband's shoulder and gave his arm a squeeze. "I think we should tell him."

Thomas sighed. "But he's only eight…."

"And they take them away to that awful school at eleven, and Harry's nearly nine. We haven't much time. He needs to know what he is, and what the real situation for those of us who aren't like him. He's a good boy, he'll catch on quick."

Thomas' throat felt raw, and he struggled to speak. "That's not the part I'm worried about."

Later that night, Harry and Becky ran into the living room, laughing as they both made hissing noises and pretended to talk to each other in snake. They stopped when they found both their parents sitting on the couch looking grim.

"It wasn't me," they said in unision, provoking a tired smile from their mother's face. It was red. She'd been crying.

"Mum?" Harry asked, taking a step forward. "Is everything alright?"

She burst into tears, and both children looked to their father, frightened.

"It's alright kids," he said, his voice rough. "Your mother and I have something to tell you."

Harry listened in astonishment and then horror as his father began to describe finding Harry at his Aunt and Uncle's house. How Harry's real parents had died, murdered during a home invasion, likely trying to save him. The abuse he'd suffered at his relative's hands, and how his father, or rather the man he'd thought was his father, had rescued him and brought him home. At the end of it, Becky ran from the room sobbing, leaving Harry alone with the people he had thought were his parents.

"So my real mum and dad are dead then," Harry sobbed, trying to hid his tears behind fogged up glasses. His eyes were downcast, but he suddenly felt warm arms around him, and melted into the embrace, letting his tears flow freely.

"No, Harry," his mum whispered. "Your mum and dad are right here. You are our son."

"That's right lad. You'll always be my little boy, and your mother and I love you so much. Maybe you don't have our DNA and maybe we didn't give birth to you, but that doesn't change how much we love you. You copy that?"

"Solid copy sir," Harry hiccuped, looking up and trying to smile at his parents.

"That's a good lad. You're Harry McAllister now, even if you were born Harry Potter. I'm sure your birth parents would have loved you very much too, but not more than your mum and I do."

Later, after his mum and dad had tucked him and Becky in and read a them two bedtime stories, Harry felt a thump from the bunk above his. A moment later, he felt Becky snuggle up beside him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and Harry could feel the wet streaks on her cheeks.

"What for?" Harry mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"That I said you were adopted."

Harry was silent, shocked by this revelation. "When?"

"I don't know, OK? But I know I've done it and it was wrong I'm sorry. Please forgive me? Brother?"

Harry gave his sister a big hug. "I forgive you, sis. Besides, you're probably adopted too you know."

"Oh! Am not!" It took Becky a moment, then she saw the broad grin on Harry's face in the dim light of their Blue Peter nightlight. "Rotter. Go to sleep. No more dreams about the green light, OK? I don't want mum and dad to worry any more than they already do."

"'k."

Later, when their parents looked in on them, the two children were clutching each other's hands snoring softly.

"That's not all we have to tell him you know," Alice whispered after she'd put the covers over their two angels.

Tom stroked his children's heads twice before standing. "True. But it's the hardest part. After telling him he's adopted, how hard can telling Harry he's a wizard be?"


	4. Chapter 3

This document beta'd by the generous LadyDisdain2014

Chapter 3: Yer a wizard, Harry

"Mr. McAllistair. So good to see you again. I am glad to find you have not turned invisible after all. How have you been since our last meeting?" Dr. Kopula Patil asked.

"I talked to a snake and found out I was adopted," Harry said, smiling back at the doctor. "It was harder finding out I was adopted, but mum and dad say they still love me."

"Indeed. I'm quite certain they do. I've tested you quite thoroughly, and I must say your levels of love are quite within acceptable bounds. Not too much though, that could cause a sickening sensation in those around you from too much sweetness."

Harry giggled and nodded seriously. "Yeah, like when people kiss in movies. Gross."

"Exactly like that." Dr. Patil paused, then looked up at Harry's parents. "You sure you want your daughter here for this?"

"Yeah, why am I here?" Becky asked. "I never come to Harry's check ups. And what is his condition anyway? I don't think Chronic Procrastinitus is a real condition."

"Yes, she needs to know. He's her family too," Dad said, his voice tired.

Dr. Patil nodded gravely. "Very well. Harry does indeed have Chronic Procrastinitus, though I do not know many boys his age who don't suffer from occasional bouts of laziness. His real condition is this: He is a wizard."

Harry waited for a moment, then looked at Becky and they both laughed. "I told you he was funny!"

"He is funny! Come on Doctor, what's really wrong with him? Is it his stinky feet? Because his socks are way smelly."

"Harry is indeed a wizard," Dr. Patil said, his tone mild. "He can talk to snakes. It is known as Parseltongue, though in my homeland it is called Nāgina kī sānsa. A very rare ability, and quite a valuable one as well. My own great grandfather possessed the skill."

Harry started to laugh, then looked again at the doctor's face, then at his parents. "You're... you're not serious are you? Magic isn't real. It's pretend, like the Doctor's screwdriver and magic police box."

"Or the Force," agreed Becky. "He's my stupid brother, he's not special or anything and he certainly isn't a wizard or Jedi."

"Language, dear," Mum said, though her voice didn't contain any reproach.

"Harry has demonstrated a number of remarkable abilities. His arm stretched rather far to make that catch in his cricket league when he was seven," Dr. Patil continued. "And when that dog came after you Becky, it suddenly became much smaller. Didn't it?"

"It only looked bigger," Becky protested, but her voice was small, and she was suddenly holding on to her father rather tightly. Harry clung equally hard to their mum, and both children were being held tight by red eyed parents.

"I know this is hard for you lad, but it's true. Your birth parents, they were wizards too, Harry," Dad said.

"Indeed. As were my parents," Dr. Patil agreed. "Sadly, or perhaps gladly, I do like my current life, I did not inherit such powers. That happens, from time to time. And occasionally children who have wondrous abilities are born to parents with no such powers. A quirk of genetics, we have come to believe. We should be able to have a test for it, soon. Though we lack a suitable number of samples from the magically inclined currently."

Harry suddenly brightened. "Does that mean I get a staff and a hat, like Gandalf the Grey? And I sword! I want a sword, like Glamdring!"

"No, Harry. You get a gun," dad growled, and Harry and Becky both looked him in shock. They'd gone shooting with their father many times, it was a bit of a family tradition. Lots of the kids of SAS officers went shooting at the range, in fact. But the guns were always treated with utmost care and respect, and Harry had never actually shot a gun without their father helping to hold the gun. Becky had, but only since her 10th birthday, that being the appointed age when a child could use a weapon unassisted. Neither of them had a gun, and none of the kids did. You had to be sixteen, practically a grown-up, before you could have your own gun.

"Indeed," Doctor Kopula agreed, "you're going to begin training in earnest, Harry. And I suppose Rebecca too, considering. After all, if the rumors are true and Voldemort, that is, the wizard who murdered your birth parents Harry, is still alive, a second major wizard war is likely."

Harry and Rebecca listened in astonishment as the plan for Harry's future was laid out. He was to be trained in SAS survival tactics and combat. Both children had taken Judo and Kendo lessons since they were small, but now things were going to the next level. Harry was to become a sort of spy, the norms viewport into the life of the maggies, or magic users.

"Your not to do anything foolish or dangerous but we won't send you into this blind or unarmed," dad explained. "You'll just be another student learning magic at the British school, Hogwarts. We don't know how to prepare you for the magic side of things, but survival and recon is another matter. You'll do fine, son."

"This is brilliant dad! Brilliant! What kind of a gun do I get? And the recon, do I get to fly in a helicopter? And what about-"

Harry continued to gush for several minutes, until he finally wound down, still excited and beaming. Becky had gotten in on the action too, but the children finally noticed that the adults still looked rather grim.

"I know this is exciting. Maybe it even seems fun lad. However, things are deadly serious. Do you remember the story of Spiderman? Or of Superman, Frodo Baggins, King Arthur, the Doctor, Luke Skywalker, all the stories about those with wondrous gifts?"

Harry nodded, slightly confused. "Yeah, those stories are brilliant, you and mum are always reading them to us or showing us videos on the telly. Becky and I love those stories, why?"

"Oh! Oh I get it!" Becky exclaimed. "It's cause Harry's like them, he has superpowers!" her voice deepened and Becky put on a mock serious expression. "'With great power comes great responsibility old chap!'"

Harry grinned. "Oh don't worry about that dad, I'll be a good guy. Like Gandalf, or the Doctor. They were always my favorites. I'll do good, help people!"

Mum squeezed Harry a little tighter. "We know you will, love. That's the way we've raised you. Too many wizards are unwilling to use their powers to help others. Instead of being superheroes, they are either recluses who hoard their own power, or use it for evil. That's how your Uncle Bill died, before you were born. Dark wizards killed him."

"Was Uncle Bill a wizard too?" Becky asked.

Dad shook his head. "No. But as no wizards seemed interested in trying to save those without magic, Bill died when an evil one decided to go on a killing spree."

"But that's awful! Where are the heroes! The time lords were all a bunch of rotters, but the Doctor was a good guy. Surely there's a wizard version of him," Harry said.

Dr. Kopula leaned back in his chair. "Actually, to be quite frank, we were hoping that would be you, Harry. The world needs heroes, someone to protect the innocent. We don't want you to be alone, when you go into the wizarding world upon your eleventh birthday, we hope you will recruit other young wizards, those born from magical or non-magical families."

"You mean like the Avengers? Or the Justice League?" Becky blurted.

"Precisely. And why I've recommended that both you and your brother be fed on a nice diet of comic books and pop culture. Only the good bits of course. Your young minds needed a good dose of heroes."

Both children were silent for a moment, and then Becky grinned. "I call Batman."

Authors Note:

I know some people are going to point out that perhaps the plan of Lady Thatcher and the other norms wasn't so different then Dumbledore's, and that in fact quite a lot of wizards tried very hard to protect muggles. In the first case, that's sort of the point: both sides want to use Harry to their own gain. Harry's immediate family do love him, but so did Dumbledore and the other wizards even if they had rather misguided ways of going about it.

In the second case, think about it from the 'muggle' (how I loathe that word) perspective. These people with awesome and terrible power hide themselves from the world. Instead of benevolence, there is only isolation. The only ones to actively seek out interaction with norms are those who actively harm them. From their perspective, wizards are cowards or maniacs bent on their destruction.

Later on we will go more into the wizarding perspective (they are isolationists for a good reason after all) and eventually weigh the costs and benefits to an interventionist stance.


	5. Chapter 4

_This document beta'd by the generous LadyDisdain2014_

 _Chapter 4: A long awaited letter_

Time passed quickly, as it always does, and two years later found Harry grown from a gangly nearly nine year old to a gangly nearly eleven year old. Despite his mother's best efforts, he remained skinny with arms and legs that seemed just a bit too long for his body. The normally unruly hair had just received it's summer buzz, and the black tufts were drifting away in the breeze.

Sitting in a chair on the front porch Harry rubbed his new stubbly scalp and grinned over at his father, who was receiving a similar treatment. It was something of a tradition for the men in the McAllister family, going back quite a few generations.

"I remember my mother giving my father and me a haircut just like this in the summer of '51. A few weeks later, he was deployed to Korea."

Harry was silent. He'd heard this story before, every summer since he was old enough to remember, but he didn't feel like interrupting.

"Your grandfather was a brave man, Harry. He served his country with honour and integrity. A true soldier. He died trying to pull another man to safety on some godforsaken muddy hill. They gave him the Victorian cross. Bloody fool had gone back five times, despite heavy enemy fire. He saved five men, they got the last one to safety as well. I was there when they gave it to your grandmother. She still has it, you've seen it before on her mantle. I never won any medals, save for the kind they hand out like sweets. My father's why I joined the paratroopers. I hope I've made him proud."

"I know you have, dad," Harry said quietly. "I hope I do, too."

"I'm right proud of you lad, and you know it. I wish...well, I wish you didn't have magic after all. That bloody letter's going to come any day now."

Harry's mother was silent, save for the buzz of the electric razor in her hands, but when Harry looked at her face her eyes were red and puffy.

"I want to go you know. Like you, and grandpa. Besides, it's not like I'm going off to war. It's just like a fancy boarding school really. I'll write to you and mum, and Becky. I can't very well tell Aaron and my other friends now can I?"

"They think you're going to a nice fancy boarding school in the North, which is true enough I suppose. Beyond that, they don't need to know. I'm sure you'll make plenty of new friends. Maggies are not the enemy, Harry. Not all of them anyway, and certainly not ones your age. Think of it as recruiting for your fellowship of adventurers, like Gandalf did."

Harry nodded, and he sat silently as his mother finished cutting his father's hair. Afterwards father and son sat quietly together on the front steps, enjoying the morning sunshine. It looked to be a beautiful day. Dad had the next few weeks off of work, to help prepare Harry for wizard school as best he could. Secretly Harry just thought his father wanted to say goodbye. Sure they'd practice information gathering techniques, driving around the neighborhood while Harry tried to memorize car license plates, or going to a cafe to eavesdrop on unsuspecting patrons. They'd also done extra bouts of martial arts training, in both Judo and on the firing range. Throughout it though, his father had been just a touch wistful as if to say, "When will I be able to do this again with my son?" Harry sort of felt the same way.

Mum and Becky brought out biscuits and cold colas, and the family sat together, talking about a dozen small things as the sun rose and the birds sang.

"Hey, what's that?" Harry asked, squinting into the distance through his glasse. "Is that an owl? What's it doing out in daytime like that?"

Shading her eyes, Becky frowned. "Rubbish, owls are nocturnal. We learned about that in...Oh! I guess it is an owl."

Thomas and Alice's faces grew sad. "Well. It's time then," Alice whispered, taking her husband's hand in her own.

The owl was a large beast with soot black feathers and a large letter clutched in its talons. It soared right up to the mailbox at the end of the short drive. Somehow, it managed to use its claws to open the box, put the letter in, close the box, and put up the little flag. Beating it's wings, the owl seemed to look right into Harry's eyes, then flew off down the lane.

Silently, Thomas stood and walked up to the mailbox to retrieve the letter. With steady hands and a silent nod, he handed the letter to Harry. His own hands shaking, Harry wasn't sure if from fear or excitement or both, Harry opened the letter and read it aloud.

Mr. H McAllistar

2 Whetton Road

Martins Heron

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards )

Dear Mr. McAllistar,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted

at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please

find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no

later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

There was a soft pop at the foot of the lane, and the family looked up from the letter. At the end of the lane were two people. One was a rather shabby man dressed in a suit ten years out of date with red hair and a shocked expression. The other was a rather severe looking woman with rimmed spectacles and a classic witches hat, who merely appeared bemused.

"Good heavens! Harry Potter? Is that you?" The man exclaimed.

The woman raised her eyebrows. "Well well. It seems our search is at an end at last. Come Mr. Weasley, we'll have to explain matters to the family. The headmaster will be glad we've finally located the boy among our new students."

A few minutes later, the McAllistairs and their odd guests were seated at the family table, drinking tea. It was early for tea yet, but mum had decided it would help settle everyone's nerves. She'd even gotten out a box of small cakes she usually saved from special occasions, which the children were eating greedily.

"We are here to inform you, Mr. and Mrs. McAllistair, that your son is a wizard. Actually, not just any wizard but-" the orange haired man, a Mr. Weasley began, but his companion, Professor McGonagall cut him off.

"Time enough for that later, Arthur. I know this is something of a shock for you, having spent all your lives believing magic to be nothing but fairy stories, but I assure you it's quite real. Allow me to demonstrate."

The witch scrunched up her face, and after a moment, slowly morphed into a cat with markings on its face exactly like those of her glasses.

Harry's eyes widened and Becky let out a small gasp, but both their parents remained stoically silent.

"Fascinating. Though I'm afraid you are both rather misinformed. We've known our little Harry's quite special for some time. The family doctor is from a magical family, Dr. Kopula Patil. He has no abilities of his own, but he recognized the signs in our lad and gave us the details. Sorry to spoil your surprize, and I assure you the demonstration is most fascinating. Can you tell us of any other magical abilities?" dad asked.

Professor McGonagall changed back into a woman while Mr. Weasley sputtered. "I see. Your house is rather odd, isn't it? I'm having a difficult time using my magic I'm afraid, so there will be no further demonstrations for now."

Thomas hid a smile behind his hand. They had turned the dwelling into a Faraday cage shortly after Harry's arrival, to try and prevent any magical mishaps while he was unable to control his powers. It had worked beautifully, and the only incidents had occurred when they were out and about, away from the sheltering energy cage. The monthly electric bill would have been enormous, but fortunately the government covered it up and only an amount a normal family would use was billed.

"Well, so you know about magic do you? Fascinating, muggle parents with magical experience. Tell me, have you heard about the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy?" Mr. Weasley asked, obviously fishing for something to say. He repeatedly glanced at Harry's forehead, where the scar was clearly visible thanks to his fresh haircut.

"We know that you lot don't like us normals talking about you, and haven't been spreading the word around if that's what you mean," Alice snapped. "Besides, who do you think would believe us?"

The two maggies relaxed a little, and Professor McGonagall nodded. "Very good. I must say this is a bit of a shock, but such things have happened before. What we're really surprised by is that you have Mr. Potter with-"

"McAllister," Harry interrupted. Both maggies looked at him in shock. "My name is McAllistair. I'm legally adopted and all that. I'm not Harry Potter. I'm Harry McAllister."

Both of the maggies winced, but Harry didn't notice. He also didn't notice that his father suddenly had to cough, or that his mother sniffed and picked up a napkin.

"Such sentiments are understandable, Mr...McAllister. However, in the wizarding world the name of Potter carries a great deal of weight. It's an old name, and a respectable one. Not to mention that you are rather famous."

That made the McAllisters blink. "Whatever for? He left your world when he was just a child, his birth parents were killed by another wizard," Alice said.

McGonagall nodded. "Indeed, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did kill Harry's parents. He tried to kill Harry too. That's what makes him so remarkable, he survived the killing curse. He's the only one in history to do so."

"So he's famous because Darth Whatever tried to kill him?" Becky asked.

"Darth? Is that a muggle term?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"You know, like Darth Vader? " Harry said, then switched to a raspy voice. "'Luke, I am your father.'"

Both maggies just gave him blank looks. After a moment, Mr. Weasley cleared his throat and continued. "Anyway, people might be a tad offended about you taking a muggle name Harry. There's...well, to be blunt, there's quite a bit of prejudice against muggles, and against wizards from muggle families."

"I've dealt with bullies before," Harry said confidently, thinking of a gang of kids that had tried to pick on him in Year Two. He and his sister had lain in wait for them after school, then given the lot of them a thorough thrashing. After that, he'd actually become friends with Aaron, one of the bullies, Aaron. "I'm not going to change who I am just to make a bunch of stuck ups feel better about themselves."

"That's noble of you, young Mr. P-, ah, McAllistar, but think carefully," Professor McGonagall cautioned. "Some of these families are very powerful. They are not simple schoolyard thugs either, they have years of magical experience behind them."

"I'm not afraid," Harry declared stoutly.

Mr. Weasley smiled. "I admire that Harry. Personally I think those who judge someone by their ancestors and not their actions are a lot of...well, it's not very intelligent of them. Tell you what, I have a lad just your age, Ronald. I'll introduce you to him when we take you to get your school supplies. The two of you stick together at school, and I know Ron wouldn't let anyone bully you over your name. Neither would his brothers; Percy's a Prefect in Gryffindor and Fred and George know to look out for the younger students."

"Harry's birthday party is next Wednesday, why don't you and your family come over?" Tom suggested. "Most of Harry's mates from school will be there, and we can have our lads get to know each other while they have a bit of fun."

That suggestion had Mr. Weasley positively beaming. "Oh! A muggle birthday party! What a fascinating opportunity! We accept of course, I'll have to bring my boys over. Perhaps we can even talk privately after about matters at school. Would that be acceptable, Minerva?"

"Yes, I think that would be appropriate, Arthur. You might want to leave the twins at home though. I don't know if they could contain themselves, given such an opportunity."

Harry didn't know what that meant, but Mr. Weasley winced. "Yes well, perhaps I'll bring Ginny instead. Harry does have a sister after all."

After that, the two maggies stood and bid farewell. Mr. Weasley promised to go over what sort of things a young wizard would need for school and how to obtain them, and answer any lingering questions his parents might have. As they left, the wizards didn't notice the heavily tinted window of the house across the lane that had a perfect sight line on the front sitting room and driveway of the McAllistair house. Nor did they notice the man behind the darkened glass, sitting behind an L96 rifle.

"Clear. Targets are away."

Sergeant Prewett relaxed slightly as his marksmen looked up, still on alert but no longer with their rifles zeroed in on the maggies.

"Damn shame that, was looking forward to poppin' me a maggie," one of the soldiers remarked.

"Mallory, you just earned yourself extra PT and duty," Prewett snapped. "That was my bloody second cousin out there."

Even with the warning, the squad couldn't quite contain sounds of astonishment. "That goes for all of you ignorant wankers. Don't forget that these people are still British citizens. Most of them are not bad sorts. We're here to keep the lad and his family safe from the bad kind."

"Yes sir, Sergeant," came the mutters.

Prewett nodded. There had been a great deal of excitement when the wizards had popped in, and when the lady, identified as one Minerva McGonagall, turned into a cat. For most of the men, it was the first time they'd seen real magic. A few had been on duty when other "incidents" had taken place, such as the shrinking dog or the snake talk, but none of that had been quite as dramatic. There were only a grand total of fourteen squibs in Her Majesty's service, and most of them were working in other sections. As such, exposing the men to real magic had been problematic at best. Maggies were damn good about keeping secrets and obliviating anyone they thought had seen something.

Of course, wizards also didn't have a clue when it came to electronic surveillance. They seemed to believe that people without magic had stayed in the same sort of medieval stasis that they had. Prewett himself had been shocked at first to see just how much muggles learned. Even more surprising were the many areas that muggles had far surpassed wizards, such as in mass transit, diagnostics and medical technology, agriculture, and most especially warfare. True, a wizard could shield themselves against a gun, and a single shot rifle or pistol was useless against any decent protection charm. But what about flashbangs, explosives, squad support weapons, tanks, planes, gas, nuclear weapons, flamethrowers, mines, and the dozens of other incredibly lethal contraptions muggles had created. Even a simple SA80 was superior to the vast majority of offensive spells, and a fire team utilizing fire and maneuver could easily overwhelm a wizard that didn't apparate away.

Prewett didn't hate his family, not anymore, and he honestly hoped that somehow, the wizard and muggle worlds would merge peacefully. But if they wouldn't, he knew where his loyalties lay now. These men in this house, any man or woman in the uniform of Her Majesty's Armed Forces, they were his brothers and sisters. They would die for him, and he for them.

Raising his glasses, Prewett studied the young boy upon whose shoulders so much hope lay. Harry McAllister nee Potter. "Don't let us down, kid."

 _Authors Note:_

 _For those of you doing the math, the Tom and Alice are older parents. As was stated in the first chapter, Alice had a complicated pregnancy, in part due to having her first child at 37-she is now 49. Tom is a few years older than even her, now 55 (Becky is currently 12)._


	6. Chapter 5

_This document beta'd by the generous LadyDisdain2014_

 _Chapter 5: The Changes Joy Makes_

Dumbledore sat in his study, sucking on a lemon drop and trying to make full sense of just what was going on. McGonagall had reported back that Harry McAllister was indeed Harry Potter. They'd suspected as much from the time his name had appeared on the Hogwart's registry, but teams had gone out to all the muggle families just in case. That was standard practice anyway, but Dumbledore had made sure to have those loyal to him accompany the usual parade of professors as back up.

That hadn't been the most unusual part. The most unusual part was that Harry had been completely undetectable. The wards to prevent harm were still upon Harry, and obviously his muggle family loved him and cared for him, Meriva and Arthur had confirmed that. But apparently Minerva had struggled to perform magic on the property, and when Dumbledore had tried to use magic to look in on Harry the picture in his scrying glass had been muddled and hard to see. Something or someone was trying to keep Harry Potter hidden. Could it be magic from his mother's sacrifice? Dumbledore supposed that was possible, but he didn't think that was what was going on. He'd instructed Arthur to keep a close eye out while on the property.

That at least had been more than a minor blessing. Things could only develop well if Harry became close to the Weasleys. They were the best type of wizards, friendly and welcoming with plenty of courage, as well as being firmly supportive of muggle rights. If someone like the Malfoys or Flints had found Harry...Dumbledore inwardly shuddered. He didn't believe that being in Slytherin automatically made someone evil, quite the opposite. Healthy drive and ambition and an appreciation of one's ancestors were good attributes. Unfortunately, the last dark lord had found allies aplenty in Slytherin, and they had always had something of a reputation. It simply wouldn't do for the Boy-Who-Lived to be perceived to follow in Voldemort's footsteps. After all, a great destiny did not mean a good one.

On the day of his birthday party, like any loved eleven-year-old boy, Harry was bursting with excitement. Not for the typical reasons of presents, cake and games, but because he was going to meet a wizard that was the same age as he was. It had been simply brilliant to see McGonagall turn into a cat, but she was an adult. Meeting another kid who had magic would make it seem all the more real, and Harry just knew that they were going to be mates.

"Dad, Dad, do you think he'll be able to show me any magic?" Harry asked, jumping up and down as his father hung up the birthday banner.

"Probably not lad, they don't often show magic to us non magical folk. Don't worry, you'll be getting your fill of it soon enough at Hogwarts. It's only a month away."

"Mum, Mum, do you think he's got a magic staff like Gandalf? Oh, I bet he has a magic ring so he can turn invisible!"

"If he does, you're not to borrow it. You get in enough trouble at school already, putting snakes in the girls bathroom at end of term. You're lucky you're not still grounded."

"But it was Amanda's idea! And do you think they can fly? That would be brilliant!"

"I don't know love, you'll have to ask him when he gets here. Just make sure not to talk about it once your other friends get here."

When the doorbell rang, Harry was naturally in the loo.

He rushed out to find Mr. Weasley and three children, all of whom shared red hair and freckles. The oldest was a boy several years older than Harry, who had a slightly bored expression on his face. The younger siblings, a boy and girl, looked to be about Harry's age.

"Wow, are you really him?" the younger boy asked, staring open mouthed at Harry. The girl just looked down and flushed.

"Yeah he's really annoying is what he is," Becky declared in her most innocent tone, coming up to give Harry's scalp a good nookie.

"Hey!" Harry protested, blushing himself. He didn't want his stupid sister embarrassing him in front of the other kids, especially not the ones he'd be going to school with.

Before he could do anything, Becky had dragged him over to the other children and was introducing him. "This is my brother, Harry, I was telling you about, Ginny. He does have that scar you were on about, but I don't see how it makes any difference. He still snores at night."

"Do not!" Harry protested, turning an even deeper shade of red.

The girl was laughing now, over whatever had ailed her earlier. "My brothers snore too, Becky. I can hear Ron in the next room easily."

"Yeah, I got my own room last birthday, before that I had to share with Harry. My parents said it built character, but I think they just wanted to torture me."

Harry decided to ignore the girls as they were obviously plotting against him. The adults were talking amongst themselves, and generally being no help at all. "Hey, wanna go see my new Game Boy?" Harry asked the two boys, at a loss as to what to say to a wizard.

"Sure. I'm Ron, by the way. The one who thinks he's too important for this kid stuff is Percy."

Percy held out his hand and gave Harry a somewhat smug grin. "Good to meet you, Harry. I'm a prefect at Hogwarts, father brought me along in case you had any questions."

"Oh!" Harry said, at a loss as to what to ask first. Instead of thinking, he just asked. "Well I'll show you my Game Boy and you can answer some questions I have."

About a million different questions raced through Harry's mind as he led the two boys back to his room, which had been dad's old hobby closet until Becky turned 11 and their parents decided that a young lady needed her own room. It was smaller than Becky's room, but Harry didn't mind terribly. There was plenty of room for his small bed with Star Wars sheets. At the foot of the bed was a built in bookcase where Harry's growing collection of fantasy and science fiction works was kept. The walls were plastered with comic book heroes, though his pride and joy was a large poster of the TARDIS with the Fourth Doctor peeking out while grinning cheekily out on it. He also had a trunk with most of his toys in it, in which his Game Boy was currently being kept. Harry was very proud of the Game Boy, which he still referred to as "new" despite the fact that he'd gotten it for Christmas and it was now July. He was really hoping for Dr. Mario for his birthday.

Digging through the action figures and cars in the toy box, Harry triumphantly held out the Game Boy to Percy. The older boy took a look at it and frowned slightly. "What is it, some sort of brick? Is this how muggles play games?"

Harry was slightly taken aback by the slightly dismissive tone. "No, it plays games. Look." Harry flipped on the Game Boy and the familiar sounds of the Tetris theme began to play.

"What, it makes music?" Ron asked, looking at the Game Boy with far more interest than Percy was showing. "Oh! Percy, look, it's like I told you. Muggle pictures move too, they just look funny."

"What? No they don't, professor-" Percy quieted as he watched Harry press the start button.

"It's just Tetris," Harry said as he rotated the blocks. "I've got Super Mario around here somewhere, and Double Dragon too. Do wizards have Game Boys?"

"We've got chess," Ron offered, fascinated by the game.

"Oh, I think there's chess for the Game Boy, but I like Tetris better. Look, you just drop the blocks, and then a row disappears."

"That's, huh. That's actually quite brilliant Harry," Percy said, his arrogance fading away.

"Here, you try," Harry offered, giving the older boy the Game Boy.

Ron stood on his tiptoes and watched as Percy played, and Harry stepped back, slightly nervous now. He was just wondering what to say when Percy glanced down at his younger brother. Reluctantly, he handed the toy off to the smaller Weasley, who eagerly started mashing the buttons. Clearing his throat, Percy looked at Harry and said, "So, Hogwarts. Bet you have loads of questions, and as a prefect it's my duty to help younger students."

"What kinds of maths do wizards learn?" Harry blurted out. He'd always disliked maths, favoring history and reading over boring calculations.

Percy blinked. "Well, we don't really have maths at Hogwarts, unless you count Arithmancy but you don't need to worry about that until your third year. You should have picked all that you need up from your muggle schooling, or from your parents. Maths aren't really important to most wizards."

"Woah, that's great! No maths! So do you learn how to fly and fight monsters instead then? That's my kind of school."

Percy nodded, folding his hands behind his back and assuming what he thought was a wise, knowing look, but instead made him look like he needed a trip to the lavatory.

"Well you do have flying lessons and defense against the dark arts, but don't expect to go racing around on your own broom stick zapping werewolves. You have to wait until you're a bit older for that, like myself."

"Oh sod off Percy," Ron muttered, still enthralled in his game. "It's not like being a prefect means Mad Eye's about to take you into the Forbidden Forest to go vampire baiting. You'd wet yourself if you went anywhere near it."

"As if he'd pick you instead," Percy said with a sneer. "You don't even-"

"What's the Forbidden Forest?" Harry asked before things got out of hand.

That seemed to flip Percy's responsibility switch back on, and he turned back to Harry. "Oh, well, it's a wood full of dangerous magical creatures on the Hogwart's grounds. Strictly forbidden to students of course, though older students go in with teachers on occasion to learn about some more advanced subjects."

"Like wetting yourself," Ron said, looking up to give Harry a goofy grin. "Bloody hell, but this game is brilliant. Almost as good as chess. Do you muggles have more things like this?"

"Well yeah, here, I'll show you the Nintendo down stairs. You can try Duck Hunt, that's my favorite."

The two girls found the three boys yelling in the living room, blasting away at the ducks on the TV. All of the Weasley children were rather impressed, stating that it was actually better than most of the wizarding toys they'd tried, though they seemed embarrassed by that part.

"Do all muggles have this much stuff?" Ginny asked, looking around somewhat wistfully at the obviously new furnishing.

"All my friends do," Harry said, eyes still glued to the television. "Aaron's got a Sega Mega Drive, it's wicked."

Harry didn't see Ginny's expression of disappointment or the tears that filled her eyes. Like most boys his age, he paid little attention to clothes and hadn't noticed the rather shabby state the Weasley's family's own clothing was in compared to his.

"No, they don't," Becky said quickly. "We're very well off my dad always says. Most people don't have Game Boys and Nintendos and all this stuff. We're just lucky. Hey, you want to come to my room and try on some of my clothes? I've got some stuff I never wore that might fit you."

The girls vanished to Becky's room again, which suited the boys just fine. Before long more guests began to arrive, filling the house with many more rowdy young boys and girls. Harry was having a grand time, when he noticed his father looking concerned and speaking quietly into a radio.

"Dad, what's wrong?"

"A moment, Harry. Yes, alright. If you're sure he's harmless don't stop him. No need to blow your cover. We'll handle it." Tom set the radio down and smiled at Harry. "Well lad, I think your evening is about to get even more magical."The front door rattled and boomed as someone seemed to be attempting to batter it down. "Come with me Harry."

Harry opened the door to find a simply enormous man half bent over peering down at him. "Harry Po-, er, I mean, Harry McAllister?"

"Um, yes?"

"Happy Birthday!" the giant boomed, shoving a wrapped object at Harry through the door, from which odd squawking sounds emitted.

"Um, thanks," Harry said, catching hold of the cage.

The giant stuck out his hand to Tom, grinning through his massive beard. "Rubeus Hagrid, at yer service. You must be Tom, Arthur told me all about you."

"A pleasure, I'm sure," Tom said, trying to return to strength of Hagrid's grip but failing. He was shocked at just how massive the man was. The file photos didn't do him justice.

"I don't mean to bother, jes couldn't help meself. I was a friend of James and Lily's, and I wanted to let their son know that we ain't forgotten what the Potter family did for us, no sir. And to thank you and yours for taking such good care of little Harry. I was right worried when Dumbledore insisted on leaving him with those awful muggle relatives of his, beggin' yer pardon. Well, I'll be seeing Harry at school this year."

Hagrid turned to leave, his mission apparently complete, but Harry called after him, "Are you a teacher at Hogwarts?"

"No, no, not me. Just the keeper of the grounds and keys. I also help Professor Kettleburn out with care of magical creatures from time to time, I do love helpin' out with the animals and such. Why, this last year the professor had a genuine cerberus he let me help take care of. Of course, when yer at school you can have a look at all sort of beasties yourself, Harry."

Harry's eyes widened to the size of saucers and he gazed up at his father pleadingly. "Dad, can he stay for the party? Please?"

Tom rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment. Hagrid was a known ally of Dumbledore, but he himself was a harmless recluse from what his file said. "Well, I don't suppose it can hurt. Always hated eating leftovers for a week anyway." He would have to check what was in that cage though. According to his dossier, the man had a reputation for obsessing over strange beasts.

Thankfully, the cage ended up not containing some sort of horrible monster, but a beautiful snowy owl. Hagrid explained that the owl was allowed at school, and later in private that it could function as a mail carrier for Harry, which they had already known, but the man was so earnest and enthusiastic Tom simply didn't have the heart to interrupt him.

The party itself was a huge success. All of Harry's friends from school came, and readily accepted that Hagrid and the Weasley's were Harry's distant relations. Which was true, at least in the Weasley's case. Hagrid himself was a huge hit with all of the children. He was happy to swing them around the yard, the kids squealing with delight and they were thrown onto the trampoline the family had set up in the garden for the event. The Weasley's themselves were awkward at first when it came to "muggle games" as Ron put it, but they caught on soon enough and had a wonderful time. Even Ginny came out of her shell enough to laugh and play along with her brothers.

After the party, Arthur volunteered to assist with the buying of Harry's school supplies, Ron and Harry boys having hit it off rather well. Ginny and Rebecca has also become friends, and Tom agreed that they could both do a bit of shopping together while the boys got school supplies. He rather looked forward to acquiring a few magical objects to turn over to the science types to analyze, and it was good to make further inroads in the wizarding world.


	7. Chapter 6

_This document beta'd by the generous LadyDisdain2014_

 _Chapter 6: The Hidden Alley_

The day after Harry's party, the family set out for Diagon Alley. Harry peered out the window of the car, asking every 10 minutes how close it was. The bill of his ball cap kept sliding up, and Tom kept patiently reminding Harry to pull it back down. On the recommendation of Mr. Weasley, they were hiding Harry's scar for the day to retain some level of anonymity.

"A few minutes closer than the last time you asked, Harry," his father said good-naturedly. Truth be told, Tom was just as excited as Harry, though some of that was channeled into nervousness. He resisted the urge to put his hand on his shoulder holster for the umpteenth time. He was the only member of the group who was armed, and they were going into unknown and potentially dangerous territory alone. He'd been told Diagon Alley was one of the safest places in wizarding Britain by Sergeant Prewitt, but didn't calm his fears entirely. If had been just him, he'd have been fine. But he wasn't alone, so he worried.

Before long the family arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. The Weasley family was waiting, and the McAllister's were introduced to Mrs. Weasley, and the twin boys Fred and George.

"Please, call me Molly," Mrs. Weasley said to Alice, giving her a warm hug despite meeting only moments earlier. "Arthur has been doing nothing but talking about all the wonderful muggle contraptions you have at your house, and Ronald has been talking about this games man thing Harry had nonstop."

"It's a Game Boy, mum," Ron said, rolling his eyes.

"Hey Harry," Fred (actually George, but only his mother knew that) said, "Ever been to a magical joke shop?"

"Gambol and Japes has got loads of stuff," Not-George continued.

"-which we would be happy to recommend for your pranking pleasure," Not-Fred said.

"-for a small share in the mayhem," Not-George finished.

"Fred!" Molly protested, alarmed at what sounded like begging to her.

"Can I mum, please?" Harry begged, already thinking of ways to give his sister a going away "present."

Alice looked at Tom, who bent down to whisper in Harry's ear. "We'll go to the bank first. Get two of everything. We'll send one set to the lab for analysis. If it isn't too dangerous, we'll set a few off at the range."

"We have to go to the stupid bank first," Harry told the Weasley boys. "But then my dad says we can get two of everything."

"Two," George whispered.

"-of everything…." Fred finished, dreams of chaos and mayhem floating through their minds' eye.

Molly looked at Alice slightly aghast, who shrugged and smiled. "Oh, I'm sure Tom will supervise it. He takes Harry and Rebecca down to the range on base every now and again to show them how to shoot and set off fireworks and the like. They're all looking forward to experimenting with magic."

"Oh, um, er, we'll have to talk about that in more detail," Arthur began as they walked towards the back entrance as a group.

"Oh, say, Arthur, I found an old Walkman for you, the one we were talking about at the party. Here, I've got some old Queen and Sex Pistols tapes in there from when I was in OTS. Have a listen," Tom said, handing over a bulky old cassette player with headphones.

Whatever Arthur had been going to say was quickly forgotten as he delightedly examined and listened to the device, commenting on the "amazing things muggles have managed these days."

Tom nodded and played along. He'd brought a few other old electronic devices with him to test while they were in a magically active area and to keep his MInistry of Magic minder distracted as need be. Unbeknownst to Arthur, these had been enforced with what techies had dubbed "lodestone hardening" to allow them to function even in the midst of an active magical field.

The group made their way to Gringotts, where Arthur was reminded forcefully by Molly to explain magical exchange rates. "Oh yes, um, one Galleon for 17 sickles and one sickle for 29 knuts," Arthur said."

"So there are 493 knuts in a galleon?" Becky asked as they ascended the stairs.

Arthur nodded at her, slightly perplexed. "Um, yes, how did you know that?"

"Did it in my head,' Becky bragged. "It was simple."

"She actually likes maths," Harry said, making a disgusted face. "I'm glad they don't have maths at Hogwarts."

"You need maths if you want to be a scientist," Becky insisted. "That's as close to a wizard as I'll ever get. Batman's good at maths you know."

"What's a batman?" Ginny asked.

"He's a superhero, sort of like The Doctor but American and without the Tardis," Harry explained.

At Ginny's blank look, Becky immediately swooped in and began educating the youngest Weasley on the finer points of pop culture she'd missed growing up in a wizarding household. Fred and George listened in, becoming increasingly interested in what Becky was describing, especially the gadgets that sounded ripe for interesting pranks.

Arthur had given Tom the key to Harry's vault the day before, and the two families split up to make their respective withdrawals. Harry was shocked to see just how much was in his bank, and he and Rebecca both demanded to be allowed to stuff their pockets with treasure.

"The vault belongs to Mr. Potter alone," their goblin guide said, stretching out a hand to prevent the girl's entry.

"It's McAllister," Harry corrected, not taking his eyes off the coins. "And besides, I think it's my parents' right now anyway, I'm just a kid. And there's loads of stuff here, Becky can take some too, can't she, mum and dad?"

"The contents of Vault 687 belong to-" the goblin began, but stopped as Alice produced a folder of documents and handed them to the goblin.

"Legal adoption and name change, as well as legal guardianship given to myself and my husband. This vault belongs to Harry _McAllister_ _,_ and we have legal stewardship of it and it's contents until such a time as Harry comes of age and can lay claim to it."

The goblin snatched the papers and read them carefully while Tom helped Harry and Becky count out a good sum of money to put into the special purpose bags they'd been given. "Hmmm. Well, this does all seem to be in order. I suppose you'll want this converted to muggle currency then?"

Alice shook her head. "No need. Seeing how much is in here, I think we'll have to have a trust fund set up. Perhaps your bank can advise us as to investment opportunities in the wizarding world so that my son's money isn't simply rotting away in the vault and is doing something productive? We can set up a stipend of spending money for him as well off the interest."

The goblin lowered the papers, his fingers twitching and eyes glowing with dark fire. "Ah, ah, how exciting. Wizards never wish to discuss such important things. Hardly understand how loans and interest work. Yes, yes, I shall have my manager sit down with us and draw up some plans. There are several investment options we have for you, some high risk but with great reward, and others lower risk but with a smaller return."

Alice smiled, showing some teeth in a predatory smile. "I have my level seven diploma in wealth management. I was an independent broker until I met Tom, and I still manage our finances quite nicely. I look forward to dealing with you, but don't expect to take me for a ride."

The goblin looked at her with newfound respect, and extended a talon. "Griphook, associate banker with Gringotts Wizarding Bank. A pleasure, Mrs. McAllister. I think we shall have a most profitable relationship."

Alice stayed behind at the bank to negotiate with the goblins, while Tom, Harry and Becky re-joined the Weasleys. The children begged to visit the joke shop or get some sweets, but the adults were firm that business came before pleasure. The first stop was the bookstore, where school books were picked out. Becky used some of her money to get several books of her own on heroic wizards and witches of ages past, as well as some adventure novels.

"Don't wizards have comic books?" Becky asked Ginny, looking through the rather sparse fiction section.

Ginny shook her head. "No, after talking with you I'm starting to think maybe I'm missing out. You've read loads more books than I have, the only really interesting author writing books right now is Gilderoy Lockhart. I only have Gadding with Ghouls, the new ones are so expensive. Mum and I both love them."

"Well, let's just get a full set," Becky said as she selected one of each of Lockhart's books, which were somewhat erroneously filed in the nonfiction section. "You can come over and borrow them when I'm done, and I've got lots of other books you might like. Have you ever read _Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH_?"

Meanwhile Harry and Ron were selecting their own books, both of them rummaging through the second hand section.

"This is brilliant Ron. If we get second hand books, we can spend the extras at the joke shop."

"Oh yeah, um, that's right," Ron agreed, though he had automatically gone for the second hands, knowing it was what his family could afford. Harry was still somewhat oblivious to this, and began telling Ron about his bank vault.

"I've got loads of treasure in the bank that I never even knew about! It's like Smaug's horde! Does your family have a dragon horde of gold too?"

Ron muttered something under his breath, then grabbed the last of his books. "I've got to go," he stated abruptly, then stomped off to his parents.

"What's eating him?" Harry asked Becky. Ginny and Ron were back with their parents, and taking their leave from the store.

"Harry, were you talking about money with Ron?" Becky said quietly.

Harry looked up at her and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so."

"I wouldn't. I think they're not very well off. It seems like a sensitive subject. Ginny doesn't have hardly any books of her own, and her mother scolded her when she asked if she could buy a new one. Plus, look at their clothes. They also seem rather proud. I wouldn't show off in front of them."

"Oh." Harry thought about that for a moment. He wasn't a cruel child, but he also was about as perceptive as your average eleven-year-old boy; which was to say not at all. He perked up a bit suddenly. "Oh, I know! I can buy everyone ice cream with my money to make it up to them."

"I think they'd be offended if you just gave it to them, Harry. Maybe say it's payment for helping us buy your school supplies and showing us around. I think they'd be more likely to accept that."

Harry nodded and hurried off with his offer to buy treats for everyone. At first Molly and Arthur protested, but when Harry made it clear it was payment for services rendered, saying "It's the least I can do for all the help you've given, and since I know Ron and George and Fred will help me at school" the Weasleys finally agreed to be treated.

The families split up after the ice cream so Harry could get his wand. "Ollivander's is the only place to get a new wand," Arthur explained. "We've ah, already got one for Ron. Family heirloom. But you folks go ahead. Mr. Ollivander is an expert, he'll take good care of you."

The McAllister's stepped inside of the musty old wand shop. Behind the counter sat a bespectacled man working with a small knife on a piece of wood, delicately carving it. Past him was a venerable warehouse of shelves, each packed with small boxes that had to contain the wands. Harry approached the counter eagerly, and the man looked up at him.

"Ah, Mr. Potter. I thought I'd be-"

"McAllister," Harry corrected automatically. He added a "sorry" when the man looked taken aback. "I'm adopted. I'm sure the Potters were brilliant, but I'm a McAllister now and I'm proud of it."

Tom squeezed his shoulder and nodded to the man. "We're looking for a wand for my son, Harry McAllister. He's attending Hogwarts in the fall. "

The man quickly recovered. "Ah, of course. Garrick Ollivander. You two must be muggles. His adoptive family? Ah, yes."

"Can I try a wand too?" Becky asked, eyeing the boxes.

Mr. Ollivander shook his head sadly. "I can give you a wand my dear, but it will do nothing for you. Without the innate spark of magic, a wand is nothing more than a stick. What it is that makes a wizard, I do not know. All I can do is make the wands that draw it out and make it wonderous."

"Would you make wands for norms if you could?" Harry asked. When Mr. Ollivander gave him a blank look, Harry blanched and clarified, "Muggles, I mean."

"Hmm. An interesting proposition. I suppose I would, given the chance. I've never much cared about bloodlines or whose parents are muggles and whose are not. Why, some of the finest witches and wizards, such as your birth mother who had a 10 ¼ inches long willow, were born of muggles. There was a young woman in here earlier with muggle parents, 10 ¾ inches, vinewood with dragon heartstring, who will make a most spectacular witch unless I very much miss my guess. But the wand chooses the wizard, you know. For some reason, they cannot see muggles, just as muggles cannot feel them. A tragedy, to be sure. So many wands I make, longing for the proper hand, but one never comes...such a waste. But ah, yes, to you, young man. A wand. First, your measurements."

A magical measuring tape took Harry's measurements, as Ollivander searched about for the perfect wand for Harry. Several wands were tried to no avail, though the criteria for which Ollivander was searching seemed nebulous to the McAllisters. Sometimes a wand would do no more than touch Harry's fingers before it was snatched away, other times Ollivander would have Harry wave the wand around before sighing and replacing it in its box. Finally though, Ollivander held out a box, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Here. Try this one. Holly, with a phoenix feather. Eleven inches. Go on lad, give it a wave."

As soon as Harry took hold of the wand, he felt an odd sensation, like an electric current but one that made his mind focus and his stomach tingle with excitement. He waved the wand, a stream of red gold sparks emitted from it.

Ollivander nodded. "Yes, yes, that's the one. Curious...most curious."

"What's curious?" Tom demanded, his own stomach filled with a mix of dread and wonder.

Ollivander fixed Tom with a soul piercing stare as he took the wand and wrapped it for sale. "Mr. McAllister, I remember every wand I've sold, and to whom every wand has gone, and what ingredients were in each of my wands. No two wands are alike, yet some are related, just as some humans are. The core of your son's wand came from a Phoenix that gave me only two feathers. The first was the brother of the wand that chose your son. That wand was responsible for the scar he bears. That this particular wand would choose your son... it means he is marked for greatness. For the man that took the brother wand was also a great man. A terrible one to be sure, but a great one. Destiny it seems, has something in store for young Harry as well."

Tom nodded thoughtfully, looking down at Harry. "Aye. That it does."

He could only hope that that destiny was the one that would heal the divide between muggles and wizards, instead of forever dooming one side or the other.

 _Authors Note:_

 _I was originally going to have Harry meet Draco in Madam Malkin's again, but there really wasn't any way that was going to end well, and it isn't yet time for the smashy-smashy fighty-fighty yet. Though it would have been pretty funny for a 12 year old girl to put Lucius Malfoy in a submission hold._

 _Some other time._


	8. Chapter 7

_This document beta'd by the generous LadyDisdain2014_

 _Chapter 7: Off to Oz_

Harry's trunk sat in the front room, filled with innumerable school supplies. Tom's throat felt as raw as a fresh recruit. Before him stood his son, ready to go off to God only knew what, to learn to be a wizard. It shouldn't have been this traumatic, Hogwarts was supposed to be the safest place in Britain and the best wizarding school in the world. Still, that didn't assuage a father's worries entirely.

"One last thing to pack son," Tom said, trying not to rasp.

Harry looked over the supplies, rubbing at the bill of his disguise cap. "No, I don't think so. What do you think, Hedwig?" Harry asked the owl Hagrid had given him for his birthday. He'd named her after someone from his school books.

"Put Hedwig down a moment, Harry. Here." Tom handed his son a small black carbon fiber case.

Harry gasped and quickly flipped the case open. Inside was a black matte P230. Harry looked up at Tom, who nodded. "Go on."

Harry carefully took the gun out, making sure to keep it pointed away from anyone. He checked safety, then checked the chamber. "It's loaded," he said, looking up at his father.

Tom nodded. "That's for emergencies. If it is an emergency, you don't want to have to mess with chambering a round. I don't think you'll need it, but you never know. All sorts of trouble I can't even imagine. Just try not to use it on a person."

"Tom!" Alice gasped as she walked into the room. "He most certainly won't shoot anybody. The goblins mentioned all sorts of nasty creatures in the forbidden forest. Spiders the size of dogs, vampires, and even worse things."

"Do bullets work on vampires?" Harry asked, carefully replacing the gun and closing the case. It wasn't a toy after all.

"No bloody clue," his father grunted, earning him a glare from his wife, which he ignored. "But try not to find out. At least until you're older. Here, let me show you the combination."

Once the gun was safely hidden away, Rebecca came in and the family embraced.

"I'll miss you, brother," Rebecca said, her own eyes damp.

Harry's eyes were far from dry as well. "You too, sis. I'll write, every week. Hedwig will bring the letters."

"We'll have letters for you in turn," Tom promised. "Remember, keep a journal of all that you learn. Try to sound out your classmates. Find people ready to help us norms. We need heroes, Harry, and you can't do it alone."

"I already know where to find heroes. Ron says Gryffindor is where the brave go. Sounds like a regular den of heroes," Harry said, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

And then it was time. They joked and talked on the ride over, keeping a stiff upper lip, but it was still emotional for everyone. The Weasleys were waiting for the McAllisters, and as soon as he joined Ron, Fred, and George, Harry quickly forgot his sadness.

"So, where is platform 9 ¾?" Harry asked.

"Between platforms 9 ½ and 10," George supplied.

"Obviously, keep up will you, Harry?" Fred finished.

Ron rolled his eyes. "It's in this magic pillar. You just walk into it. Looks solid, and it normally is, but today it's a portal to the platform to Hogwarts."

"Ickle Ronnikins is correct," Fred agreed.

"But make sure you run straight at it and really believe you'll go through-"

"Lest you fail to make the magic work and fall flat on your a-"

"Fred! Don't be tricking poor Harry, it's his first time!" Molly admonished.

"Only joking, mum! Watch Harry, like this!" With that, Fred and George sprinted towards a seemingly solid pillar and vanished from view.

"You too, Tom, Alice, Rebecca," Arthur said, motioning them to follow him. "It works just fine for muggles, so long as a wizard tells them about it."

"Wicked!" Becky cried, and together she and Ginny raced forward and leapt through the portal.

Tom and Alice were less sanguine about it, but went through just fine. After them came Harry and Ron. When they popped through, Harry gasped and looked around. A grand old steam engine sat on the tracks, around which crowded dozens of children and their families, all bidding them farewell.

"Does the train run on a regular old steam engine?" Becky asked Ginny.

The younger girl shrugged. "I dunno, what're steam engines?"

"You know, water vapor. It turns a turbine which moves the pistons and produces kinetic motion. We learned all about it when we studied great British inventions this year. James Watt and all that."

"Oh." Ginny looked thoughtful. "I didn't know he was a wizard."

Becky gave Ginny a confused look, and glanced up at Arthur. "Was James Watt a wizard?"

"Oh, him? No, just a muggle," Arthur said amiably. "The train does run on steam, though I believe the water is heated by bottled dragon fire, and supplied by an Ocean in a Flask. Quite similar to the muggle version, though this one doesn't run out of fuel."

"It never runs out of fuel? But doesn't that violate some sort scientific law or something?" Becky asked.

Arthur shook his head. "No no, it's magical. A wizard does have to put work into it, but it's very efficient. Not like muggle engines at all in that regard. I've always been fascinated by how much you muggles can get done, even when you're limited to finite resources of energy and materials."

"Huh." Becky gazed out at the train. "Aren't wars fought over that sort of thing?"

Now Arthur looked surprised. "What sort of thing?"

"Over energy. You know, like the Gulf War that my dad just fought in last year, with So Damn Insane or whatever his name is. They were fighting over oil and stuff. Lots of people died so they could get more energy."

"Muggles kill each other over oil?" Ginny asked. "But why? Can't they just use a doubling charm or transfigure more of it?" Suddenly, she realized what she'd said and blushed. "Oh. Right. I suppose not."

"Nope. There's only so much oil my dad said. If we were to run out, it would be very bad. A lot of people were scared. Petrol prices went way up, my mum was worried we wouldn't be able to go visit the sea because it would be too expensive. And like I said, some mad man out in the desert killed a bunch of people so he could have more oil."

"Well why don't wizards just help?" Ginny asked, looking at her father. "If muggles are dying over something we could fix so easily…."

Her father shook his head sadly. "What muggles fight over is none of our affair. If we were to help, think of all the problems it would cause. We can't offer a magical solution to everything, and when we couldn't muggles would get cross and try and kill us. That's why we went into hiding in the first place. It's a very complicated issue my dear, one that I've thought long and hard about. Personally, I think we should help out, quietly, when we can. But I'm just a low level minister in Muggle Affairs, and not very important. My opinion doesn't count for much."

While the girls and Arthur were talking, Harry and the Weasley boys got all their supplies aboard the train, and began their farewells. Harry run up to Becky and gave her a quick hug. "Bye Becky. See you at Christmas! I'll write lots." Then he turned and gave Ginny a quick hug as well. "Thanks for coming to my birthday party to teach me about magic! I'll make sure Ron writes as well, bye!" He turned and ran off again before he saw the flush in Ginny's cheeks.

Becky grinned at Ginny. "Ooo, fancy my brother do you?"

Ginny huffed and looked away, flushing even further. "He's just famous, that's all."

The final goodbye said, the whistle blew and the call went out for boarding. With a final hug and kiss, Harry parted from his parents and clambered aboard the train. He found a compartment with Ron, and took a seat as the train pulled away from the station.

"Wow, this is brilliant! Off to Hogwarts at last. I know I'll miss my family, but I'll finally get to learn some real magic!" Harry said, taking out his wand and studying it. "You know any spells, Ron?"

Ron shrugged, looking slightly miserable. "Maybe, not much. Kids aren't allowed to do magic until they come of age. You're lucky in a way, you don't have heaps of expectations on you. I'm the sixth to go to Hogwarts, and I've got a lot to live up to. What if I don't even get sorted into Gryffindor? Fred's always on about how I'll be in Slytherin for sure because I'm so sneaky, and George says I'll be in Hufflepuff since I'm so boring."

Their conversation was interrupted when the door slid open. A woman peeked her head in. "Anything from the cart, loves, I've got- Oh! Goodness, are you Harry Potter?"

Harry had taken off his ball cap now that they were on the train, and with his hair still trimmed short his scar was clearly visible.

"Harry McAllister, actually," Harry said, feeling a bit put out. Why did everyone know the wrong name for him? It was kind of irritating.

"He's really Harry Potter," Ron confided. "But he's changed his name. Got adopted."

"Gee, thanks Ron. Why don't you tell everyone my whole history? You left out the bit about my sister being smarter than I am in maths."

Ron flushed and looked away. "Nothing for me," he muttered.

Harry eyed the cart. "Hey Ron, help me pick out some stuff. My dad gave me some spending money from my vault. I don't want to spend too much, though. How much would a galleon get me?"

Sitting up straight, Ron stared bug eyed at Harry. "A whole galleon? Bloody hell Harry, you could buy the whole cart for that much!"

"Oh." Harry pulled out a few knuts and sickles, then handed them over to Ron. "Show me how to use the wizard money, I still don't understand it. Becky could, like I said she's better at maths than me."

At first Ron appeared slightly guilty, but he soon got over it as he taught Harry how to make change with knuts and sickles. The boys ended up with far more sweets than they should eat, though not more than they could. Before they started eating, Ron guiltily pulled out some corned beef sandwiches. "Erm, I've got my own. Mum packed them. You go ahead."

Harry grinned and pulled out a tupperware container of cold steak and kidney pie. "Trade you for this. I like corned beef better anyway. But stuff it, I'm eating the sweets first. My parents can't see. And you too, you showed me what to get, you get half the loot."

Ron eagerly traded for the pie and sweets, and the pie and sandwiches were soon forgotten. Ron showed Harry the Every Flavor Beans, which impressed Harry only a little, as he immediately bit into a grass flavored one. "I like Jelly Bellies better. What about those?"

"Oh! Chocolate frogs. They come with trading cards. Here, lets see what this one is. Oh, just a Dumbledore. I've already got like three of him. You take it, Harry."

Harry was too distracted by the fact that the chocolate frogs appeared to be alive, croaking and hopping straight into Ron's open mouth. "Ron! Are they alive? That's gross!"

Ron shrugged, chewing and swallowing the frog. "Nah, just enchanted. Taste like regular chocolate, not frogs. Careful though, sometimes the enchantments off and instead of hopping in your mouth they try to get away."

The boys were still playing with the frogs when the door slide open to reveal a chubby boy with a worried expression. "Have you seen a toad?" he asked in a trembling voice.

Harry slurped down his frog and glanced at Ron. "Um, no, just these chocolate ones. I'm Harry, what's your name? Want a frog to make up for your toad?"

The other boy shook his head, then started and quickly held out his hand. "Neville, Neville Longbottom. Sorry, can't stay, I have to find Trevor." He did a double take before leaving, glancing at Harry's forehead, then flushed and scampered off.

"Huh. Wonder what that was about? Why would he have a toad?" Harry wondered as he put his hat back on. Maybe that would keep people from being so irritating.

"It's like your owl or my rat. They let first years have a pet," Ron explained.

"You have a rat? Where, I haven't' seen it? I like rats, Becky's friend Amanda's dad keeps them, to feed to his snakes. I can talk to them, you know."

Ron gave Harry an odd look. "What, the rats?"

"No, the snakes. But show me yours, I'm sure he's awesome."

"Not bloody likely. Scabbers is useless. He's around here somewhere." Ron rummaged in his robes and pulled out a fat grey rat, who was sleeping fitfully. He perked up when a chocolate frog hopped by, and snagged it and began eating the frog, which croaked mournfully.

"Wow. Should rats eat chocolate? Isn't it poisonous to them or something?" Harry asked.

Ron shrugged. "I dunno. He was Percy's first, but now that he's a bloody Prefect he got an owl instead of a useless rat. I never get anything good."

"Well, is he good for magic? Like using his tail or whiskers in a potion or something?"

Scabbers looked up at Harry with a slightly offended expression at the mention of using his body parts for potions, then went back to munching on the last of the frog. "Look, he understands me. I bet he's smart."

"Not Scabbers. If he's not eating, he's sleeping. He's the world's most boring pet. I tried to turn him yellow to make him more interesting, but I couldn't get the spell to work. My wand's a bloody hand me down too, probably messed up the spell."

"Try it again," Harry encouraged, looking more closely at the rat.

Ron sighed and pulled out his wand, waving it over Scabbers, who had finished his frog and curled up on Ron's lap, apparently not concerned about the impending color change.

Before Ron could recite the spell, the door banged open and a buck toothed girl stuck her head in. "Have you seen a toad? Oh! Are you going to do some magic? Let's see it then"

Ron blinked, but continued his spell. "Sunshine daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow." Finished with a flourish of his wand, but Scabbers just twitched and rolled over.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" the strange girl said "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough - I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

Harry blinked. "Um, Harry McAllister. My parent's don't have any magic either. Ron was just teaching me about using wizard money and how wizard sweets work. They come to life and hop in your mouth, apparently."

Hermione's eyes widened and she bit her lip, obviously thinking about something. She glanced back into the hallway. With a cry of delight, she jumped out of sight, then reappeared, holding a toad. "I've got to get this back to Neville, but then I'm coming back. I saw how wizard money worked when my parents went to Gringotts, but I could always use more practice and I would love to learn about how to enchant food. I'll be right back, then we can study together!"

With that, she was gone. Harry looked at Ron, slightly perplexed. Ron put his wand away and shook his head. "Kind of bossy, isn't she?"

"Reminds me of my sister," Harry agreed. "But it can't hurt to make more friends, my dad told me to-" Harry cut himself off. He wasn't sure now was the time to recruit Ron into his fellowship and let him in on the secret: that Harry was out to recruit wizards to help muggles and save the world. Or something like that, Harry was still fuzzy on the details.

"Your dad told you to what?" Ron asked, opening up a pumpkin pasty and taking a huge bite.

"Um, keep an open mind. You know, that wizards aren't all bad sorts and that sort of thing."

Ron sat his patsy down, swallowing and looking offended. "What do you mean, that wizards aren't all bad sorts? Better a wizard than a muggle or squib, right?"

"There's nothing wrong with muggles," Harry insisted. "Or squibs, Dr. Patil is a squib and he's very nice. It's just that Voldemort killed my birth parents, and a wizard killed my Uncle Bill, so I didn't have a very good first impression of magic."

Looking somewhat mollified, Ron nodded. "Oh, I guess that makes sense. I'd think all muggles were a bunch of gits if they'd killed my parents or offed one of my uncles."

"What did muggles do to your uncles?" Hermione demanded as she sat down after sweeping aside a pile of empty wrappers and plopping down next to Harry. "I read that muggles are what wizards call people without magic and it seemed rather derogatory. I don't understand why wizards look down on muggles so much."

"It's because anything associated with muggles is trash, just like you, mudblood," a new voice drawled. "I'd heard Harry Potter was in this compartment, but I see I must have been mistaken. A Weasley, a mudblood, and someone with a good awful muggle hat. Clearly, this isn't a place for the proper sort of wizard."

"You're Harry Potter?" Hermione demanded, turning to Harry and ignoring the new boy with an odd level of practice."I read about you in my text books! Is that why you have on the Southampton cap? To hide the scar? Is it hideous?"

"I'm not Harry Potter," Harry grumbled. "I'm Harry McAllister. The adoption papers say so and everything."

"Oh, so now you're going to claim to be Harry Potter? Go on prove it," the new boy said. "I bet you're just another mudblood."

"Better that than a Malfoy, Draco you wanker," Ron snarled.

Draco gave Ron a languid smile. "Ronald, Ronald. If our confrontation at Madam Malkin's didn't teach you anything, I'm sure it's only because you're too stupid to learn. Still wearing the hand-me-down robes? Maybe if your brother, Perry? Doesn't matter, maybe if your brother keeps sucking up to my father enough he'll make enough money someday to give you his almost new ones."

"I don't know who you are, but you're being very rude," Harry told the intruder. "Sod off."

"That isn't very polite, isn't Crabbe and Goyle?" Draco asked, and as if by magic two hulking thugs shouldered their way into the compartment, cracking their knuckles ominously.

"You should be nicer to purebloods, mudblood scum," one of the brutes growled, echoing the words of his master.

Harry stood up, coming nose to nose with the first boy. "I don't know what a mudblood is, but you're trying to insult Hermione and me, I can tell. So sod off, before I have to teach you a lesson."

Ron was immediately next to Harry, trying to be brave, but mostly looking nervous. "Yeah, back off. You don't get to talk to my friends that way."

"Boys, there's no need to-" Hermione began, but Draco interrupted her.

"Too bad you're too ugly to be worth it. My dad always said a mudblood mistress is only good for one thing, su-"

Harry's fist connected sharply with Draco's nose, ending the sentence abruptly. Ron jabbed at Crabbe ineffectively, and the two brutes waddled in. Harry might have been a match for one or both of them if the conditions were right, if he'd had space to use his agility and speed along with his training to wear down the larger boys. But in a tight space, mass was all that really mattered. You didn't need training to simply punch and kick, or grab and hold, which was what Crabbe and Goyle did. Harry and Ron were quickly on the ground, as a snarling Draco drew his wand. "You'll pay for that-" he began, then looked at Harry's forehead, which has become exposed as the hat was removed in the scuffle. "Well well. You actually are Harry Potter. I suppose I'll just have to teach you who the real wizards are."

"Try a witch! _Flipendo_!" Draco was immediately bowled head over heels by Hermione's spell. Crabbe and Goyle stared up stupidly, and Hermione repeated her spell twice more in quick succession.

Harry and Ron struggled to their feet, ready to lay into their foes again, when a shout came from the hall.

"What the bloody hell is going on here!" a familiar voice roared, and Percy rushed down the corridor, flanked by two more prefects and a worried looking Neville.

"They attacked us!" Ron snapped. "Some help you were when we were getting clobbered."

"They broke my glasses," Harry said, taking the cracked spectacles off his face and rubbing the blood off his nose. "And they insulted me and my family."

"Sweet Merlin, that's Harry Potter!" one of the other prefects gasped.

Percy shook his head. "No, except yes. He's Harry, but he prefers McAllister. He was adopted by muggles."

"He's a filthy traitor lunatic!" Draco gasped, getting shakily to his feet. "He punched me and the mudblood hexed me! They should be expelled!"

Percy hesitated, glancing at Harry and Ron. Then his back straightened. "Your father isn't here to protect you now, Draco. And my father is twice the man he is. It's my brother's word and Harry, the Boy-Who-Lived, against yours and your half troll friends. If they say you attacked and assaulted them, then they were well within their rights. You're lucky I don't have you expelled."

"You're just a prefect! My father-!"

"Isn't here. So quit hiding behind him like a spoiled little girl. Get back to your compartment. Ross, Ivan, make sure they do. I'll help out Harry and the others."

With that, the two other prefects escorted the sulking Malfoy and bloodied cronies away. Percy stepped inside and slid the door shut. Ron stared at him in wide eyed astonishment. "Bloody hell Perse, that was brilliant. When you'd decide you're a proper Weasley?"

"When I realized I didn't want to spend my whole life getting stepped on by prats like him, which was about the same time I realized his father was just being condescending when we met. Come here, I know some basic medi-magic. I'll heal you two up."

Hermione watched with rapt attention while the boys were healed, then started talking. "I didn't think I could really cast that spell, it's from the second year book and I only got to read part of it once while we were at the store, and I know I'm not supposed to cast hexes on people but they were being so awful and you said we were friends and I just wanted to help I'm not in trouble am I?"

Percy glanced at Hermione, then stuck out his hand. "Percy Weasley, Ron's brother. I hope he hasn't been too much trouble for you, miss?"

"Granger. Hermione Granger. And what does mudblood mean? It sounded rude and Draco kept saying it like it was some kind of slur."

"It means your parents were muggles, but it's very rude. Only an arse like Draco would call someone as brilliant as you that, Hermione," Ron said. His earlier antagonism had been replaced by a kind of awe. This girl had not only hexed Draco, but his two minions as well. He was determined that he was at least going to put up with her bossiness until she'd taught him how to hex like that.

"It implies that your blood is polluted," Percy said gently. "For one thing, that's nonsense. Some of the greatest witches and wizards of all time have been born of muggles. And for another I heard you hex Draco. The knockback jinx isn't easy, and if you managed that as a first year you're going to be a force to be reckoned with, unlike Draco who will probably just slide by on his family's name and money. Harry, hand me your glasses."

Harry obliged, and Percy waved his wand and muttered a charm. The cracked glass snapped back to perfection, and the bent frame righted itself.

"Wow! What charm was that?" Hermione asked. "Was that a reparo?"

Percy nodded sagely, enjoying showing off. "Indeed. That's quite good. You'll be an excellent student, I can already tell. Hopefully you rub off on Ron."

"Provided we're in the same house," Hermione sighed.

"We'll all be in Gryffindor for sure," Harry declared. "Ron, you were brave to stand up to those bullies with me like that, and Hermione kept her head in combat. That's courage under fire, you'll be with us for sure."

"I had considered Ravenclaw," Hermione said tentatively, glancing at Harry and Ron. "But if you think Gryffindor is better…"

"As a prefect, I should say that all the houses, even Slytherin, have their merits and place," Percy said primly to Ron's horror. But then a bit of Weasley spirit showed through and Percy gave them a wicked grin. "But sod the lot of them. Gryffindor forever. You three will fit right in."

 _Authors Note:_

 _Instead of Harry meeting Draco in Madam_ _Malkin's_ _, Percy did. He had a bit of a confrontation with Lucius as well, and had a bit of an epiphany. Small things make big changes in people._


	9. Chapter 8

_This document beta'd by the generous LadyDisdain2014_

 _Chapter 8: Pride and Prejudice_

Harry walked into the great hall of Hogwarts, gazing around in awe. The high ceiling reflected the night sky, while enormous banners with house crests hung from what seemed to be nothing.

"The ceiling isn't real you know, it's enchanted. I read about it in _Hogwarts: A History_ ," Hermione was explaining to anyone who would listen.

Ron was looking nervously around. "Where's the troll?"

"Troll?" Neville asked, now just as nervous.

"My brothers said we have to wrestle one to get placed," Ron explained.

"Was it Fred and George?" Harry asked.

Ron nodded sheepishly. "Well, yeah. I guess maybe they were having one on me."

"What did Percy say?" Hermione asked. "I didn't get a chance to ask him how we were placed exactly, but I read that it involves some sort of magical hat."

"Percy just went all mysterious and knowing and told me I'd be in Gryffindor so not to worry about," Ron grumbled.

Just then, Professor McGonagall appeared with a stool and set it in front of the new students. She then placed a ratty looking old hat on the stool, and stepped back. The first years gazed at the hat in confusion, wondering what it was for. Suddenly, the hat seemed to stretch and yawn, and burst into song. It described each of the houses, Gryffindor the Brave, Hufflepuff the hardworking, Ravenclaw the Wise, and Slytherin the Proud. Harry was still convinced he was going to be in Gryffindor, where he hoped to find all the heroes the world needed.

McGonagall began to call people up by name. Whenever a student was placed in a house, their new comrades erupted with cheers and shouts as the new student was welcomed into the fold. Hermione did indeed end up in Gryffindor, where she sat next to Percy who enthusiastically began introducing her as the girl who hexed Draco Malfoy and his two cronies, whom several Gryffindor students seemed to be familiar with and already disliked, especially since the cronies were already in Slytherin.

To no one's surprise, Malfoy ended up in Slytherin. Harry anxiously awaited his name to be called, only for it to be skipped as McGonagall called for "Patil, Padma." Harry looked around, stunned. Ron was looking surprised and upset himself, and both boys were considering speaking up when McGonagall called "Potter, Harry."

Shocked whispers spread around the hall, as everyone from the magical world anxiously looked to see what Harry Potter looked like and where he would be placed. Harry however, stubbornly crossed his arms and sat down.

"That's you mate," Ron whispered, giving Harry and elbow in the side.

"No it's not," Harry grumbled. "They keep screwing my name up on purpose. I'm not going along with it anymore."

"Harry Potter! Come forward!" McGonnagle called.

"There's no Harry Potter here!" Ron shouted back. Harry looked up at him gratefully and Ron winked back.

That brought quite a few mutters from the students and teachers, as the hall became restless at the interruption in proceedings.

McGonagall seemed to be at a loss as to what to do. She couldn't see Harry with the remaining first years as he was now sitting on the floor, and rarely did any student refuse to be sorted. She glanced up at the head table. A tall elderly man who looked exactly like a classic wizard stood up and cleared his throat. "It is traditional for a wizard to be sorted under his or her magical name, not one they are known as among muggles. Names have great power, and changing them can lead to unforeseen consequences. Will Mr. Harry Potter please come forward."

"Try Harry McAllister!" Harry shot back grumpily. "Nothing wrong with that name." He wasn't turning his back on his family, no matter what the teachers did.

McGonnagle harrumphed and glanced at the headmaster, giving him an I-told-you-so look.

Dumbledore sighed and closed his eyes. For a moment, Harry thought he would insist on calling Harry the wrong name, but instead he said, "McAllister, Harry. Come forward."

At that, Harry stood and marched forward, glaring around at anyone who would dare challenge him. He heard laughter and mockery from the Slytherin table, and he bristled. There was no way he was getting sorted THERE.

He plucked the hat down on his head and sat on the stool.

 _Well, well, well_ _. What do we have here. This is unusual. Haven't seen something like it for, oh, 60 years or so. A wizard taking a muggle name! That changes things you know._

Harry started at the voice in his head, and looked around before he realized it must be coming from the hat.

 _Yes, I am the sorting hat. And yes, I am reading your mind. Psychic doesn't really describe what I am or what I do, but I suppose it's a decent enough label. You're rather adamant about not being in Slytherin aren't you? Shame that, you have a lot of ambition and pride, and that house could help you become great._

"I don't want to be great, I want to help my father and all the other norms," Harry whispered fiercely.

 _Such loyalty! Hufflepuff would be a good fit for you, a good fit indeed. And the obsession with muggles, hmm, yes, you'd fit right in with Hufflepuff._

"Will I find heroes there? I need to find heroes brave enough to change the world with me. I thought I could best find them in Gryffindor."

 _Ah, yes. You so desperately want to be a hero, yet you deny wanting to be great. But if I do put you in Gryffindor, that could change everything that a 300 year old law has sought to accomplish, and everything wizards for a thousand years before that worked towards. To change fate in such a way...that may be something I have to prevent._

"What do you mean? I thought you just sorted us into our houses."

 _Oh no, I do far more than that. I am a guardian of destiny in many ways. You see, the founders knew that what house a wizard was put in would influence their destiny quite strongly. They also knew a delicate balance had to be maintained between houses, as each represented something the wizarding world needed. They sought to prevent anyone house from becoming too powerful, or from one kind of magic dominating everything._

"Well then, are you going to try and stop me from helping the norms, who wizards insist on calling muggles?"

 _I think that's what some would want me to do. But...Gryffindor and Hufflepuff were always rather favorable towards muggles. You'd make everyone's life interesting in Gryffindor, and you do have the courage for it. So I suppose you'd best go look for your heroes in GRYFFINDOR!_

That last part the hat said aloud, and Harry quickly dropped it onto the stool and ran over to sit with Percy and Hermione. Fred and George had clambered onto the table and were busy blowing raspberries at the Slytherins, who were giving catcalls back. Harry was about to stand and make a rude gesture at them before Dumbledore raised his hands and called for silence. The room quieted down, and the sorting continued.

Harry studied the head table more closely this time, looking at the teachers. McGonagall and Dumbledore he knew a little about, and Hagrid he remembered, but he didn't know any of the others. He found one of the teachers looking straight back at him as he studied the table. This one had lanky black hair, and a shrewd expression. He was looking at Harry as if he were measuring him, and finding him wanting. Harry stared back, determined not to be bullied. He and the teacher locked eyes for a few moments, before the teacher grimaced at Harry and looked away with a pained expression.

"Who's that sitting next to the teacher with the purple turban?" Harry whispered to Percy.

Percy looked up and frowned slightly. "That's professor Snape, head of Slytherin house. He's the potions master. Be careful around him, he's rather strict."

"Bit of git ain't he Percy?" Fred whispered, winking at Percy.

His older brother shrugged. "He's a teacher. Try and respect him, Fred."

Fred sat back and gave Percy an odd look, but just then the last student was sorted and Dumbledore stood.

"Welcome, all of you, to Hogwarts. Before we begin, I have a few announcements. First, the third floor corridor on the right hand side is off limits to those who do not wish to die a most painful death."

Harry looked around, but the older students seemed to just accept that parts of the school were death traps, so he did his best too as well.

"Second, our staff has been joined by Professor Quirrell, who will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts."

The turbaned man stood and bowed nervously to the room. As he did so, Harry's scar flashed with pain. He winced and rubbed it, not having felt anything like it in years. Maybe it was all the new magical energy.

"Alright, Harry?" Percy asked, noticing his pained expression. Harry nodded and tried to smile. Percy didn't look convinced, but let it go for now.

Dumbledore gave a few other announcements, then, with a wave of his wand and a few nonsense words, a feast appeared on all the tables. Harry and the other students let out gasps of delight and dug in.

Harry had always been a skinny boy, and still was despite his mother's best efforts. He ate heartily though, focusing on meat and vegetables. He remembered what his father said about training and diet, and he'd eaten a good deal of junk food earlier. Everything was delicious though, with roast beef, turkey, pies, pumpkin dishes, and other strange and wonderful foods Harry had never tried before.

He also got to meet his new fellow Gryffindors. The Weasleys he already knew, and they busily introduced him to quite a few others. Harry took especial note of Parvati Patil.

"I know your uncle, Doctor Kopula Patil" Harry told her excitedly.

Parvati looked slightly embarrassed at this. "Oh, you know Uncle Kopula? I um, I'm sure he's nice."

"Don't you ever hang out with him? He's pretty funny and he's a good doctor," Harry continued, not noticing her embarrassment.

Lavender Brown, one of the other girls elbowed Harry and hissed into his ear, "Leave off idiot, he's a squib!"

"Well I know that," Harry said, "He told me he was a squib. He's the one who told me all about magic and stuff."

Several of the older Gryffindors now looked rather embarrassed for Harry, and Parvati was now studying the floor very hard.

"Harry, it's not polite to talk about squibs," Ron whispered. "My family has one, they're kind of embarrassing. We don't ever talk about him, especially not publicly."

"Why is it embarrassing to have family without magic? Don't you still love each other?" Harry demanded.

"That's enough for now Harry," Percy said sternly. "We can talk about it more later in private."

"I want to know too," Hermione said loudly, glaring at the other Gryffindors. "If you lot are going to be as bad as the Slytherins just because my parents don't have magic, I think I'll go back and demand to be put in Ravenclaw after all, the hat said I'd fit right in."

"No one here is going to go on about blood status," an older Gryffindor, Oliver Wood, said quickly. "Plenty of us are half bloods or muggle born ourselves. It's just...well, having a squib is rather embarrassing. They get resented for not having magic, and they in turn resent us for having it. Hard feelings all around and it makes your family look bad. So it's not brought up in polite company, so kindly leave Parvati alone. He family has a long distinguished bloodline and has produced many great witches and wizards."

"Don't see what's wrong with being a doctor," Harry grumbled to Hermione after the feast was over. "He helps loads of people. More than a lot of wizards I bet."

Hermione nodded fiercely, glaring around at the other students. "My parents are dentists. They're wonderful people who keep everyone's teeth healthy and make sure that no one gets any cavities or any other diseases. So if you ever have a sore tooth you'd regret making fun of them."

"Why couldn't we just get a potion or something to fix our teeth?" Lavender demanded. "It's not like we're muggles. I hear muggle tooth cures hurt. A decent medi-wizard could fix you up proper with none of that."

Hermione huffed and turned her back on Lavender. "What do your parents do, Harry?" she said loudly. "The ones that raised you I mean."

Harry looked at her gratefully. "My mom used to be a stockbroker, but now she mostly keeps house. My dad though is a major in the Special Air Service, but he's up for promotion to colonel soon. He doesn't really want to as it would take him out of active combat, but he's resigned to a desk job."

"You're dad's in the SAS?" Dean Thomas demanded.

Harry nodded. "Yep. My grandfather earned the Victoria Cross in Korea, my whole family has a history of being soldiers. One day, I'm going to join the RAF and be a pilot. I bet magic would be dead useful for a soldier."

"Wizards don't become soldiers, silly," Lavender said in a haughty tone. "That's for muggles. You might try to be an auror instead."

"That sounds boring," Dean said. "The SAS are bloody brilliant, best in the world. Even the Americans are jealous of how good our lads are, and the Russians quake in their boots. Did your dad ever fight, Harry?"

"He was in Kuwait earlier this year," Harry said. "He said he didn't see any front line combat as an officer, but he was near some shelling."

"Wow!" Dean said, grinning at the other students. "My dad's a solicitor and my mums a grocer. Your parents are way more interesting. You'll have to tell us stories. Did he ever fly in a helicopter?"

"Flying a broom would be way better," Ron grumbled, upset that he didn't understand anything of what Harry was saying and slightly jealous of Dean.

"He was in the paras," Harry told Dean. "He also flew in helicopters loads of times, I saw pictures and a video of it. I bet he'd like to fly on a broom though, I know I would."

The conversation ended as their head of house and prefects showed them into their common room, and explained the house rules. The Gryffindor tower was amazing, and reminded Harry of nothing quite so much as descriptions of magical places from Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. There were roaring fireplaces, animated portraits of noble knights and warrior women, huge carpets and cozy couches and wonderful scarlet and gold draperies showing heroic scenes of valor from the past. Out of the enormous windows Harry could see the darkened grounds and night sky, giving the room a feeling of home.

Harry, Ron, Dean, Neville and Seamus, an Irish boy who told Harry that he was "half and half," all ended up sharing a dorm together. The four poster beds looked warm and comfortable, though the pleasant August night didn't call for heavy bedding.

"Thanks for standing up for me, Ron," Harry said quietly as they prepared for bed.

Ron looked up, confused for a moment. "What, you mean during the sorting?"

"Yeah. It seems like a lot of other wizards have a problem with my parents and people without magic in general. But you've been pretty great. I know you're a real friend."

Ron flushed, glad Harry couldn't see him in the darkness. He thought Harry's family was nice, but weird and sort of pitiable since they had no magic, but Harry clearly didn't see it that way. He was embarrassed about his squib second cousin after all, but he didn't think he could tell Harry that. He resolved to be a better friend, he wasn't going to let Dean steal his best mate. "You got it Harry, no one's going to make fun of you or your family on my watch. I think the way Parvati acted about her squib uncle was rude. I'm sure he's fantastic."

"Yeah. G'night, mate."

"Night mate."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Dumbledore sat in his office, gazing at his various magical instruments, but not really seeing them. The portraits of the school's old headmasters around him dozed quietly, having finally settled down after their start of term excitement. Things were not going well with Harry. First, the lack of the blood wards. Harry was in great danger now, greater than he could possibly now. While he was at school, Dumbledore was reasonably certain he could keep him safe, but when he went home for the holidays, he would be naked and helpless. All it would take was one old Death Eater, a quiet resurgence of Tom Riddle, or even just an accident of some sort, and Harry would be dead.

The new development was the most disturbing though. Changing his name magically would have consequences. Dumbledore should have foreseen it, have warned Harry and his parents, but he hadn't thought of it. Of course he would want to be Harry Potter! His parents had died for him. But Harry had new parents that obviously loved him, and that he loved in return. While he certainly didn't have an over inflated opinion of himself from being around wizards all his life, he instead seemed to be rather unimpressed by magic. If Harry didn't develop strong bonds in the wizarding world, if he didn't become firmly rooted in magic, he might never become the weapon against Voldemort the world needed.

And to change his name... there was power in words and in names. To abandon such thing could severely hurt a wizard's abilities. Time would tell if Harry would develop into a strong wizard, but he could have been so much more if he'd kept his birth name.

Fate hung in the balance now. Would Harry become the sword and shield the world needed? Dumbledore didn't know, and he didn't like that. It was time to start exploring contingency plans. He got out a sheet of parchment and began composing a letter to Cornelius Fudge, and to Amelia Bones. It was time for a shake up in the Ministry.

 _Authors note:_

 _I'm going to avoid retreading all the events from the first year. You can assume that if I don't cover it, things happen more or less like in canon._


	10. Chapter 9

_This document beta'd by the generous LadyDisdain2014_

 _Chapter 9: The Language of Flowers_

The next day, rumors and whispers seemed to follow Harry almost from the moment he woke up.

"Raised by muggles-"

"-the scar, is it from-"

"-turned his back on the wizarding world-"

"-thinks he's better than us-"

Peeves the Poltergeist, who had rudely introduced himself to Harry by throwing water balloons at the back of his head, floated behind him singing, "Potter he's notter, a wizards just a lizard, if a muggle name he has, but Harry's not scary he's just a little mad," and other nonsense, most of it quite rude. Percy managed to get Peeves to leave Harry alone for a while by threatening him with Bloody Baron, but that didn't last long. As soon as the older boy left for his classes, Peeves started in on Harry again, at least until he reached his first class, which was transfiguration.

It was taught by the Professor McGonagall, the Gryffindor house teacher, who took roll and lingered over Harry's name, giving a heavy sigh as she read "McAllister." Once the lesson started though, she demonstrated her transformation into a cat. All of the first years applauded and cheered, even the slightly miffed Harry. Once she had their attention though, McGonagall was stern.

"Transfiguration is one of the most potent and dangerous magics you can learn. If you are caught disregarding your instructions, you will leave and not return. Now, we shall begin with Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration."

"She's an animagus, and they're really rare," Hermione explained to Harry and Ron after class.

"That would be so cool to be able to turn into and animal," Harry said.

Ron nodded. "What animal do you reckon you'd turn into?"

Harry grinned. "Oh, probably a snake. They're my favorite animal after all."

Ron made a face. "But that's a Slytherin animal! What you want to do that for?"

"Oh, yeah. Maybe a dinosaur of some sort then, like a T-Rex," Harry mused.

He was interrupted by a hideous voice crooning, "Oh, Potter he's notter but he's really a rotter, a muggle lover and a bit of a bother-"

"Oh bloody hell," Ron grumbled. "Will he be at this all day?"

Peeves soon lost interest though as the Gryffindor first years made their way outside to Herbology. Professor Sprout was a large woman who radiated a sense of more love and care, and reminded Harry of his Year One teacher who had been his favorite for many years. Unlike his Year One teacher she called him Potter at first. Still, when she she showed them around the greenhouse as an introduction, Harry was fascinated by all the magical plants. Neville managed to earn several points for the house cup from Professor Sprout, as he was able to identify several rare magical plants and explain their uses. His outshining Hermione in the knowledge department in regards to plants was a source of some consternation to her.

"Oh relax Hermione, you'll have a chance to show off later," Harry assured her.

Ron made a face. "Oh, I dunno. We've got Potions next, with Snape. Fred and George said he really hates Gryffindor, and even Percy had a hard time finding good things to say about him."

"He can't be that bad," Hermione insisted, though Harry and Ron were both quite certain that she'd never said a bad thing about a teacher her entire life.

Potions was down in the dungeons, and as they made their way there Harry saw the Slytherin first years. Draco was with his two half-troll minions, and leered at Harry as they approached. Harry rolled his eyes and tried to ignore Draco, but he had a hard time forgetting the insults he'd given Harry's family.

Snape started class by taking role. He paused when he got to Harry's name, saying, "Harry…" slowly and deliberately. Harry glared at the man, daring him to skip the McAllister and call him Potter, but Snape finished with a rather deliberate "...McAllister."

Harry relaxed slightly at that, giving Snape a grateful smile. In return, he got a scowl seemed designed to prevent any future displays of happiness in the class. Harry shrugged, but couldn't help a small satisfied smile. One victory for the day at least.

"Potions is not like your other classes," Snape began, glaring around the room. "The art of potion making contains no loud bangs or flashy lights, which might lead some of you to believe it is safer and easier than other magical arts."

He suddenly spun, making his robes swirl in a dramatic flair. "It is not! I don't expect you to understand the subtle beauty of a softly simmering cauldron or to understand the power of magical liquids seeping into the human mind and body, bending reality to your will. I can teach you to capture fire in liquid form, to expend your senses to heights you cannot comprehend, to distill the essence of joy and hope, or to brew despair and fear in the blood of your foes. That is, if you're not as mentally deficient as the usual lot of students I receive in my first year classes."

"McAllister!" Snape snapped, causing Harry to jerk upright.

He smiled at Snape to show he appreciated the gesture. "Yes sir?"

"What would be the reason for gathering acacia blossoms on Midsummer's Day?"

Harry frowned and thought for a moment. "Um, I don't know sir."

Hermione's hand shot into the air, but Snape ignored her. "It is used to make a Potion of Saint Clair's Purification, McAllister. What of Calla lilies, where would I find their native habitat?"

"Er, maybe Hawaii sir? I think I saw some there on holiday."

Once again, Hermione raised her hand, but Snape ignored her. "They are native to South Africa, Mr. McAllister, not Hawaii. What would you add to a potion of Eternal Beauty after it had brewed for three days to complete it?"

This time, both Lavender Brown and Hermione raised their hands, but Harry was stumped.

"I don't know sir."

"Idiot! Narcissus flowers are known for their properties in cosmetic potions. What is the common name for _Cupressus sempervirens_?"

This time it was Neville who had his hand raised, but Harry thought furiously. This one he should know, he'd taken Latin in school after all!

"Um, that's cypress, isn't it sir?"

Neville and Hermione beamed at Harry for getting the question right, but Snape just stared into Harry's eyes again. "Yes...perhaps you are not us foolish as you would have us believe." Snape seemed to peer into Harry's soul, so deep was his gaze. It was starting to make Harry uncomfortable, when Snape's eyes snapped away and he glared at the rest of the class. "Well, why are you not writing this down?"

Snape walked next to Harry's desk and rapped it once with his knuckles. "Not completely useless. One point...to Gryffindor. " He broke off and went to berate Neville, who had somehow managed to leak ink all over his school bag before he'd even opened it.

"What was that all about?" Harry whispered to Ron as they took down the notes.

"I dunno. I thought for sure he was going to take away a load of points, Fred and George says he hates Gryffindor! But he actually gave you one! What's up with that I wonder?"

Harry just shrugged, and continued taking notes. As it was, it turned out that the one point Harry earned for Gryffindor was soon erased as Snape found ways to harangue all the Gryffindor students. Hermione got two points taken away for trying to help Neville, and Neville lost five points for managing to stain one of the desks with ink. Harry even lost the point he had earned when Snape found dust in his cauldron during inspection. By contrast, Draco Malfoy earned ten points for having a spotless cauldron, and even Crabbe and Goyle earned a point each for "preparedness."

"It's like Snape thought he had to punish us for giving me that one bloody point," Harry grumbled as they made their way out of the dungeons.

"Snape actually gave you a point, Harry?" Percy asked, coming up behind them. When Harry nodded, Percy beamed at him. "Well, you must have done a really good job then. I don't recall the last time Snape has ever given any Gryffindor's a point, even I have a hard time not losing points in his class, despite the fact that I try to ensure that my fellow fifth years treat him with the respect his position deserves."

"I don't think he deserves any bloody respect," Ron grumbled.

Percy put his hand on Ron's shoulder to stop him. Ron spun, angry, but Percy just shook his head. "Ron, I didn't say whether or not Snape deserves respect, I said his position deserves respect. He is still a Hogwart's professor, and he's actually very good at his job. Students who pass Potions OWLS and NEWTS here are highly sought after the world over for their skills, because everyone knows that Snape is one of the best potions master's around. So whether you like him or not, still treat him with respect because he has a powerful influence on your future."

Ron opened his mouth to argue, but then frowned. "Well I still think he's a git," he grumbled.

"Ron! Don't say that about a teacher!" Hermione scolded. "Treat him with respect, like your brother said."

Ron looked at Harry, who shrugged. "Hey, at least he didn't look at me all mournful like because I've decided I love my parents, even if they don't have magic, or mock me because I decided I like a muggle name better than a wizard one."

"Peeves still giving you a hard time then, Harry?" Percy asked, as they started walking towards the Great Hall for dinner.

"Not just him, McGonagall sighed when she read McAllister, and Sprout called me Potter and I had to correct her. I do like Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout, but it seems like everyone is set on me being Harry Potter, even if I've never been called that as long as I can remember."

"I've had people act all shocked because I'm muggle born and know so much," Hermione put in. "They act like I spent the first part of my life without a brain! Honestly, it's not like I didn't got to school and get good marks before."

"Yeah, but that was just muggle school. It's not like it really matters. I never went to muggle school, my parents didn't see the need to bother. Mum taught me, Ginny and my brothers to read and stuff," Ron said with a dismissive air.

"But what about history, science, maths, grammar, physical education, arts!" Hermione demanded, glaring at Ron.

Percy raised an eyebrow at Hermione. "It's not like any of that stuff really matters once you became a witch. Who really cares about muggle stuff, when magic is just so much better at everything?"

Hermione opened and closed her mouth in exasperation. "But you can learn so much from history! And without science, how would we have trains and photographs, and so many other important things!"

"Magic can't be better at everything," Harry argued. "I'm sure there's stuff that has been done without magic that's just as good or better than what wizards do."

Percy shook his head. "All the best things are created by wizards first Harry, and there's nothing muggles have managed that wizards haven't done better before them."

"So when did wizards go to the moon?" Hermione demanded.

Percy and Ron stopped dead in their tracks. "Do what?" Ron asked.

"Go to the moon," Hermione repeated. "The Americans did it ages ago, six times in fact. And the Russians put probes on Venus, and the Americans have been to Mars with robots, and there have been loads of space probes to Jupiter and Saturn."

"Don't be silly, Hermione, you can't take a portkey or apparate to get to the moon, and brooms can't fly that high," Percy declared imperiously. "It's been proven that their is no way of getting off of the planet. And to go beyond that, well, that's just silly."

"But they did go," Harry said. "I have a book at home with pictures of the Apollo program. And we learned about Prospero in school, it's the satellite that was built and launched using only British resources, though we had to do it from Australia. Oh, and I suppose our ICBM's can go into space, though if they launch that's pretty bad."

Ron and Percy still looked incredulous. "But you can't get to the moon, the magical currents won't allow it or something," Ron said slowly.

"But they didn't use magic, Ron," Hermione half shouted. "The rockets they used to get to the moon had no magic at all, they used hydrogen burners to achieve lift and maneuver."

"What's this, a mad mudblood fantasy?" a new voice drawled. "Everyone knows that muggle claims about going to the moon are a load of nonsense. It's impossible, the Sir Serpens Malfoy proved that a long time ago in his treatise on ley lines beyond the Earth."

Percy's face darkened and he turned slowly to face Draco Malfoy. "What was that, Draco? I think perhaps the two of us need to have a conversation with Professor Snape about your choice of language."

Draco sneered. "I said a mad muggleborn fantasy, Weasley. Clean out your ears. I thought prefects were supposed to be bright."

"My hearing is fine, Draco. And I have three witnesses. Ah, there's Professor Snape now. Come along Draco. Professor Snape! A word, please." And Percy marched off, dragging a suddenly recalcitrant Draco with him.

Harry and Ron grinned at seeing Draco get a tongue lashing from Percy, but when they looked at Hermione she just looked disturbed. "Do wizards really believe that going to the moon is impossible?" She asked quietly.

Ron looked from her to Harry. "Well, yeah. You can't do it," he said, then hastily added "magically, anyway. I dunno, you two seem awful convinced."

Hermione and Harry looked at one another for a moment, then Harry shrugged. "I'll have my dad send over my book on the Apollo missions, it's got pictures and stuff in it, stuff you couldn't fake. Ron can read that. Oh, and I bet we could find other kids, like Dean, to confirm it."

Hermione nodded enthusiastically. "I'll have my parents send over my Illustrated Guide to the Solar System from Dorling Kindersley they got for me when I went to astronomy camp last year. It has a whole page about the Voyager probes. You'll have to believe that, Ron."

Ron agreed, happy to move onto another subject, like what was for dinner that night.

That night, Harry lay in bed, composing a letter to his parents. He was getting frustrated with the quill and inks, but persevered on in composing his letter.

 _Dear Mum, Dad, and Becky_

 _Hullo, i am havin a good time hear at Hogwarts. I have made friends with a girl in my year named Hermione Granger. Her parents dont have no magick ayther. Theyre dentists. I've added there phone number. I think hermione will be very happy to help us someday she is very smart. Will you please send me my book on the moon landings? Ron dont believe that people have been to the moon. Oh, also I am in Gryffindor with Ron and his brothers and also Hermione. It is very nice. Love you lots,_

 _Harry_ _McAllister_

 _PS_

 _Please send some notebooks and clicky pins. Parchmant and feathers are rubbish. I have to use them in class but I dont want to right to you with them they stink_

He tied the letter to Hedwig's leg, having retrieved her from the Owlery earlier in the evening. He walked to his dormitory window and let her loose, watching her fly off into the night, her white body seeming to glow in the reflected light of the castle. As he did so, he felt a slight pang of longing that he couldn't go with her. He'd been away from home before of course, but it seemed an awfully long time until the winter holidays, and he was already missing his family, if only a little for now

He turned back, walking past Neville's bed. The other boy was frantically searching through his trunk for something that he'd already managed to lose.

"What're you after now, Neville?" Harry asked, stopping to gaze down at the other boy.

Neville jerked upright, banging his head against his trunk lid. "Oh, nothing Harry. Just...well, I can't find any more ink bottles. I've spilled all of mine already, and my gran will be furious. I'm always losing things, you know. She gets kind of upset with me, and I don't have to write for more already, and I needed to write her since she wants me to send her letters all the time and I have to tell her I'm in Gryffindor like…" Neville's voice suddenly thickened and he half choked out, "like um, like my parents."

"You live with your grandmother?" Harry asked, surprised. "Did your birth parents die too?"

Neville looked around surreptitiously, then sighed. "No, not like yours, Harry, though Gran says they were friends with your um, your birth parents. They...they're still alive...but…" For a moment, Harry thought Neville wouldn't say anything more, but then Neville said all in a rush, "but they were tortured by Death Eaters when you killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named because they were looking for him. They're...they're in Saint Mungo's now. I see them, sometimes, but...but they're not well."

"Oh." Harry was silent for a moment, then trotted back to his own bed, and grabbed the mostly full bottle of ink he'd been using, and brought it back to Neville. "Here."

Neville took the bottle of ink, looking slightly perplexed. "What's this for, then."

"For you. I wrote to my parents, they'll send me some pens and paper. They're much better for writing then parchment, and I've got a few bottles of ink left and I won't need as many since I won't use them to write home now. I...I understand about your parents. I haven't told anyone else, but it really hurts me when people talk like my family isn't really mine, like they don't love me or something. I...I guess I do love my birth parents, the Potters, but it's hard. I don't think of them when I think of my mum and dad, and I think of Becky when I think of family too. And Grandpa Charles and Grandma Melba and Uncle Jordan and Aunt Jesibel, and my cousins Jessie and James and Jenny and Julie and Jamie-"

"That's a lot of names that start with J," Neville interrupted, then flushed. "Sorry."

Harry chuckled. "No, it's OK, my dad says the same thing. Says his sister's mental for naming her kids like that, but whatever. The point is, I understand how you can love someone and still kind of resent them, and feel bad about it. So, sorry. It's OK. We can still be mates, as long as you don't hate me."

"Hate you for what?" Neville asked, now looking even more confused than usual. "You gave me the ink, that was really kind of you."

Harry looked down at his feet and scuffed the thick carpet. "For well, for getting your parents tortured, like you-"

The next thing Harry knew, he was flat on his back with a bleeding nose. He stared up at Neville, dazed, who was breathing hard, while tears leaked down his face. He was flushed, and looked as if he couldn't decide if he was furious or despairing. "DON'T YOU DARE SAY THAT!" Neville shouted, louder than Harry had thought the quiet boy was capable of. "Don't you dare say that," Neville sobbed, scrubbing at his face with one hand while shaking out the bruised hand he'd just used to break Harry's nose. "My parents...what happened to them was the fault of Bellatrix Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange, Rastaban Lestrange, and Barty Crouch Jr., and… and VOLDEMORT'S!"

Neville took a deep breath, then held out a hand to the still dazed Harry and helped him up. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, Harry, sorry. I...I don't know, I mean, I didn't-"

"No, ibs ohgay," Harry said, pinching his nose shut. "I bus being a bit. 'Ummon, bets bind Perbys, he can bix by nose."

They walked down to the common room, where Percy gave them both a chewing out, and fixed Harry's nose with a wave of his wand. "Merlin's beard, what were you two doing, getting into a fight in the dorms!" Percy demanded. "Neville! I never would have thought you would do such a thing. I'm telling Professor McGonagall that-"

"Don't," Harry said hastily, wiping the excess blood on the hankie Percy had handed him. "Please, don't Percy. I kind of deserved it. It's alright, Neville and I have already made up. See? We're mates." Harry demonstrated this by putting his arm over the shocked Neville's shoulders.

Neville suddenly straightened though, and nodded fiercely. "Yeah. Mates."

Studying the two of them carefully, Percy came to the conclusion that any boy with more brothers than he really wanted but just as many as he truly needed would; they're nothing like a few blows to make everything right between two blokes, and have them be good mates again. Something he really wished his mother understood better, because there were times he was utterly certain that if she'd just let him smack Fred and George around a bit, they're probably get along better in the end. "Alright. But if you must do any more fighting, for heaven's sake, don't go bleeding all over the place again. And don't hex each other, neither of you know enough about magic to go around doing that just yet."

Harry and Neville walked back up the staircase together, a quiet companionship between them. Neither felt the need for words, and both boys felt as if they really understood each other, in a way that only two boys who have both lost something and fought each other really can. When Ron came up to the dorms later to ask what they'd had a row about, Harry and Neville just exchanged grins. "What about a game of cards, Ron? I can teach you and Neville how to play Egyptian Rat Screw. Bring Scabbers over, maybe he'll like it."

Slightly disappointed that he didn't get any details on the fight, but excited at the prospect of learning a game with such an absurd name, Ron hastily agreed, and soon all three boys had sore hands from slapping the card piles, laughing and talking until bed time.

As they did, Harry couldn't help but feel that maybe he'd found another hero, even if Neville was rather an unlikely looking one.


	11. Chapter 10

_This document beta'd by the generous LadyDisdain2014_

 _Chapter 10: Shoot for the Moon_

"I can't believe it's only Thursday!" Hermione chatted excitedly as she, Harry, Ron and Neville made their way down to the Great Hall. "I must say our classes so far have been really interesting, I feel like I've already learned so much!"

"What about History of Magic?" Ron asked, stifling a yawn. "That was bloody boring."

"But it could be so interesting! I think the history textbook is my favorite. It has a whole new world of history, full of rebellions, magical conventions, monsters and-"

"But it's taught by Professor Binns!" Ron argued. "He's so boring he killed himself from sheer boredom and then kept right on teaching."

"Well, the subject is still fascinating," Hermione declared. "Even if the delivery can be lacking."

"I like Herbology best," Neville said, looking at Harry for affirmation as Ron and Hermione continued to argue. He still seemed rather unused to hanging around with friends all the time, but Harry had dragged him along for the past two days, and neither Ron nore Hermione had objected. Hermione seemed to actually like Neville quite a bit, as he allowed her to boss him around, and Ron liked the fact that Neville wasn't always going on about "muggle nonsense" like Harry and Hermione.

"I'm looking forward to flying today," Harry said. "I thought Defense Against the Dark Arts would be fun, but Quirrell gives me a headache. I think it's the stutter and that awful smell that he has."

"I heard from Ron's brothers that he keeps his turban full of garlic to scare off a vampire he met in Albania," Neville said, looking around nervously as if a vampire were going to really appear in the corridors.

"I dunno, it smelled kinda rotten to me, and a bit like gunpowder," Harry said.

"What's gunpowder?" Neville asked.

Harry blinked. It was weird how much stuff Ron and Neville didn't know. They seemed to know all kinds of things about magic and wizarding in general, but they didn't know what rockets or electric lights were. "Um, it's an explosive. It's what non-magical people use to fight and stuff."

"I thought muggles used swords and pitchforks and torches," Neville said. "That's what they use in the stories my gran tells me."

"Don't be thick Neville," Hermione interrupted. "We stopped using those as weapons ages ago. Guns, tanks, planes, rockets, all that sort of thing is what norms use these days." Hermione seemed to have picked up on the fact that Harry avoided using the term muggle, unlike Ron and Neville. Harry's dad had said it was a bit patronizing, which he had explained meant it was insulting.

"Oh," Neville said.

Ron, however, wanted to know more. "Planes? Like an aeroplane? Isn't that what muggles use to fly? My dad's always on about those. I think it's his life's goal or something to figure out how they work."

"Their wings generate lift so they can fly," Harry said.

"Do they flap their wings like a bird? That's what my Uncle Algie thinks," Nevill said.

Before Harry could answer, Hermione jumped in. "No, they use jet propulsion now mostly, which runs by igniting petrol to spin a turbine very quickly which compresses the air and shoots it out in a jet stream behind the plane to generate thrust."

Ron blinked and looked at Harry. "You understand any of that, Harry?"

"Er, kind of. They burn stuff and that makes something spin really fast and it moves the plane forward."

Hermione rolled her eyes at that explanation, but Ron and Neville quickly agreed they now understood to avoid further argument, as they had arrived in the Great Hall and wanted to eat. As Harry was digging in to a plate of bacon and eggs, the post arrived. An enormous parliament of owls swooped in, some bearing large packages, others bearing sealed envelopes and a few clutching rolls of parchment. Hedwig landed on Harry's head and dropped a large package into his lap, then gently pecked at him until he offered her a few pieces of bacon. She happily took the bacon, allowed Harry to reach up to scratch her neck a bit, then flew away.

Harry opened the package to find several packages of pens and three notebooks, along with his book on the Apollo mission, a National Geographic on the American and Russian space programs, and a pamphlet on Helen Sherman who had been the first Englishwoman in space earlier in the year. He grinned and waved the pamphlet under Ron's nose. "See? Proof! We have been to space! They sent a British citizen up there in May!"

Ron's eyes crossed as he tried to focus on the waving pamphlet. Harry held it still, but before Ron could take it the pamphlet was wrenched from his hands.

"What's this then? More of your muggle nonsense? Gracious, Potter, everyone would think you're a mudblood instead of being descended from purestock."

"You leave Harry alone!" Neville cried, standing and shoving the sneering Malfoy back as he clumsily grabbed for the pamphlet.

Crabbe and Goyle were there in an instant, one grabbing ahold of Neville as the other held Ron and Harry back easily, the two other boys having jumped up to help Neville.

THUNK! Crabbe and Goyle both sat down hard, dazed and rubbing their heads.

"Mate, you don't want to do that," Fred said calmly, putting a hand on George's shoulder. The more impulsive twin had just slammed the two Slytherin's head's together, hard.

"I should think so!" Malfoy sputtered. "Tell your brother to keep his filthy blood traitor hands off of-"

Malfoy suddenly found legs in the wrong place, and joined the other Slytherins on the floor.

"He was talking to you," Percy said, extending Malfoy a hand as he kicked Fred's boot out from under Malfoy. "It isn't wise to pick a fight with a Weasley. We have a habit of multiplying."

George sniffed loudly and wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. "Oh Perse, it moves my soul to see you finally taking after us."

"Brother mine, I think we actually might be related to him after all," Fred agreed, dabbing at his eyes with George's robe's collar.

"Back off you two. These three are all firsties and can't even begin to fathom how out of your league they are," Percy growled. "Let a prefect handle this."

"Fine, fine," Fred agreed easily, bending over and freeing the pamphlet from Malfoy's quivering hand. "Here you go Harry, have your paper back." He paused before giving it to Harry, frowning as he read the title aloud. "'British Heroes: Helen Sherman, first in Space.' Oy, Harry, what is this? Looks like this muggle was...blimey! Fred, look at this."

"What, what is it?" Ron demanded, standing on his tiptoes to try and read the pamphlet that Fred and George were fascinated by.

"It's a bunch of muggle lies and propaganda that Harry and his mud-muggleborn friend are trying to feed us," Draco growled.

Sighing, Percy helped Crabb and Goyle to their feet. "You three just don't learn. Now clear off before I call a professor, or worse yet, turn my back the next time you pass this lot in the corridor."

"I'm not afraid of Potter," Draco grumbled as he stomped off.

"It's McAllister," Percy snapped at his retreating back. "And I was talking about giving my brothers a free hand." He glanced at Fred and George, who were still gazing fixedly at the pamphlet. "What, no cracking witticism at the Slytherins' expense? You two are slipping."

"Yeah, yeah, Draco's a rotter," George muttered as he flipped the pamphlet over, eyes racing over the text.

"Slytherin stinks," Fred agreed absently. "Harry, is this for real? Can you really go beyond the Earth? This says that this Helen lady lived on out a platform of some sort beyond the world for eight days."

"Oh! Is that on Helen Sharman?" Hermione asked brightly. She held up her own recently arrived package, which indeed contained her Dorling Kindersley Illustrated Guide to the Solar system, and a new book, Eyewitness Spaceships, which had a small plastic model attached. "This is a brand new edition! My parents were so thrilled I hadn't forgotten all about the non magical world and its education that they got me a new one! It has the whole Soyuz craft and the Mir space station in it!"

"You can't possibly be going on about that still," Percy said, sounding skeptical. "Malfoy was a brat about it, but he was right. His great-great grandfather did prove that beyond Earth there are no magical ley-lines, and as such a wizard can't draw power. Therefore, you can't travel beyond the Earth."

"Yeah, but they did this with explosives. We could make those," Fred said, grabbing the Eyewitness book from Hermione. He and George were soon pouring over it, their breakfast forgotten. Percy shook his head, gave Harry and Hermione a pitying glance, then went back to his own meal.

"It's too bad Britain doesn't have a space program of her own," Harry remarked as he turned back to his own breakfast. "Helen had to travel with the Americans."

"The Soviets, actually," Hermione corrected. "It was a gesture of international cooperation. It was in all the papers. I used to dream of being an astronaut, but now…."

Fred and George both suddenly looked up. "What? Why wouldn't you still want to be an astronaut?" Fred demanded.

"It says here that the Americans went to the moon!" George agreed.

Fred held up the book, pointing to an illustration of a predicted future craft. "The MOON Hermione! And they have this craft here that could go to Mars."

"Can you even imagine?" George whispered, his expression reverent."That would be...that would be like the greatest prank ever." "

Fred nodded. "You'd be famous forever."

"You...you think that's real?" Ron asked hesitantly.

Fred and George both nodded, their faces serious. "Ronnikins, do you remember the firework we set off three years ago New Years? The really big one."

"Yeah, why?" Ron asked, confused.

George closed his eyes. "We wanted that one to hit the moon. Make a big explosion, leave a mark on it."

"We even got it off before mum could take it," Fred agreed.

"But the explosion was pretty cool. It lit up the whole sky," Ron protested. "Dad said the Ministry had to wipe a few memories because it could be seen for so far."

"We wanted it to reach the moon. Mum and dad set us down and gave us a talking to after," Fred explained.

"Mom was mostly angry that we'd done something so dangerous," George said.

"But dad was more concerned about our space obsession. Said it was, impossible, dangerous-"

"-and that he would personally skin us if we broke the international statute of secrecy before all of England."

"So we stopped, but only because he and Mum convinced us we really couldn't hit the moon."

"We were so naive."

"So young."

"So tender."

"But not anymore."

"And now we have proof."

"If a bunch of muggles-"

"-Americans and Russians even-"

"-a bunch of non-British especially thick muggles then-"

"-can make it into space-"

"-then there is no reason that two British wizards can't."

Neville looked extremely confused, clutching at a glowing red ball he'd got in a letter of his own. "What are you on about? Going into space?"

"It's something Harry and Hermione were on about on Monday," Ron explained. "Something to do with muggles going to the moon."

"Oh." Neville thought for a moment. "Well, that sounds exciting at least. Personally I'd rather keep my feet on the ground. I'm not looking forward to flying later."

"Here, take my book," Harry was whispering to Fred and George. "If you're really interested, let me know. It'd have to be a secret, but I might be able to help you two become astronauts."

Fred and George looked as if they'd just received a divine mandate on their new purpose in life as they held the book on the Apollo Program reverently. "Oh, I think we will Harry," Fred said.

"Come to our dorm after dinner," George agreed. "We can talk privately there."

And with that, breakfast was over, much to the regret of Harry and Ron, who had spent most of their breakfast doing things besides eating. They managed to grab slices of toast to eat as they ran to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Harry had started off with high hopes for Defense Against the Dark Arts on the first day, but all Quirrell had done was natter on about how they had to be careful around dark magic and that danger lurked around every corner. At first Harry had thought he was building up to something, but eventually he seemed to frighten himself so much with his own lesson that he had to sit down and sniff smelling salts for a minute. While he'd done that he'd turned his back to the class, and Harry had started to develop an ache in his scar.

Today was looking to be no different. Quirrell was at the blackboard, stuttering as he pointed to some diagrams of what might have been some fascinating stuff, but the stutter was so bad and Harry's scar hurt so much he could barely focus.

"N-n-n-now c-c-class," Q-q-q-quirrell began. "A-a-a-as I have s-s-s-said, light, light is most u-u-u-useful in in repelling the d-d-d-darker creatures. W-w-w-we will p-p-p-p-practice this simple spell. L...l... _lumos_!"

A faint light flicked out of Quirrell's wand. All this seemed to be too much for the man. He collapsed in a chair as if nearly fainted, and waved to the students to practice while he fanned himself with a large paper fan.

"Wow. I think I learned more about defending myself in my first lesson in the dojo," Harry grumbled as he partnered up with Neville. Ron was determined that he would learn how to hex like Hermione, even if he did have to put up with her bossiness.

"Is that like muggle Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Neville asked.

"It a form of non-magical defense, yes," Harry corrected.

"Oh. So what'd they teach you?"

Harry looked Neville dead in the eye. "Run away really, really fast."

Neville blinked twice, then a guffaw escaped him. He covered his mouth with his hands, looking around to see if anyone had noticed. Quirrell was still busy fanning himself, and Neville lowered his hands. "Actually, that doesn't sound like half bad advice. Even if it isn't very brave."

"'Only fight the battles you have to, and when you do, don't fight fair,'" Harry quoted. "Anyway, let's see if we can get the hang of this. _Lumos_!"

Harry and Neville were both among the last of the class to master the spell, by which point it was nearly time to go. With Hermione's tutelage, Ron was actually doing quite well, a steady beam of light emitting from his wand that was only eclipsed by the one Hermione was producing herself.

After that was another session of Potions, again with the Slytherins. Harry did his best to keep his head down and follow the directions on the sheet. It was a bit like cooking or chemistry, which he was very careful not to mention to Professor Snape, as Harry was certain that would deeply offend the man. Still, he'd practiced with a PeeWee Chemistry kit he'd gotten two Christmases ago and he'd helped with cooking often enough to read a recipe and follow directions. Hermione had told Neville that he really needed her help, and that left Harry with Ron. Together, the two of them sort of managed to make the simple Cheering Flask, though instead of being a bubbly yellow, theirs was a sputtering light orange.

"Not awful, McAllister. Perhaps if Mr Weasley were paying more attention, the two of you might have more fully succeeded," Snape sneered as he passed their cauldron by.

"I think Ron was a big help, sir," Harry said stoutly.

Snape ignored this, as well as Neville and Hermione's potion which was a happily bubbling yellow that seemed to glow the color of sunshine on a bright summer's day.

"What a tosser," Ron muttered as Snape inspected Lavender and Parvati's cauldron, docking two points for Gryffindor because it had somehow turned a putrescent green color. "Our's wasn't half bad, and Hermione's looks like it was made by a bloody sixth year. And he gave Daphne two points for a potion that was just as good as ours!"

"At least he's not boring," Harry said, a bit louder. "I'll take Potions over History of Magic or Defense Against the Dark Arts any day. I don't fall asleep, and I don't get headaches. Plus, at least here we learn something useful. All Quirrell has taught us is how to turn our wands into a torch and Binns couldn't teach his way out of a wet paper bag."

"There is no need for side conversations, McAllister. Do it again, and I will be forced to dock points," Snape growled.

Harry gave him a smile and a wink. "Yes sir."

"What are you doing with Snape, Harry?" Ron demanded later at lunch. "It's almost as if you like the bloke."

"My dad always said that if you were stuck with a bad superior, the best you could do was kiss ass and make the best of it," Harry said pragmatically as he took a bit of Shepherd's Pie. He frowned when he bit into it. "What is it with the obsession with pumpkin? I think they put some in the Shepherd's Pie. I mean, it's not awful, but there are other things to eat and drink."

"Pumpkins are good for magical energy," Hermione explained.

Neville nodded. "Yeah, they have properties that can enhance your magical reserves and are good for developing wizard's minds. It's in Grenada Greenthumb's Guide to a Greater Garden. My gran got it for me, but I left it at home."

"Huh." Harry looked at Ron, who just shrugged.

"I just like the taste. Still though, I don't like Snape. I think he hates us or something."

"Don't let him get to you," Hermione said. "Just keep a stiff upper lip and get through it. You've got at least four more years with him. Make the best of them."

Ron grumbled at this, but even he couldn't really argue with the wisdom of Hermione's advice.

After lunch was Transfiguration, which was interesting enough, but Harry couldn't wait until McGonagall had finished. He practically leaped from the classroom, excited to finally get to fly.

"I've always wanted to fly," Harry gushed to Ron as the two of them sped through the corridors. Neville and Hermione were lagging behind, not nearly as enthused. "I used to dream about riding on a flying motorbike, and I've always wanted to be a pilot."

"I've been flying for years," Ron bragged. "My brothers and I play Quidditch all the time. I reckon I'll be a decent keeper one day, or maybe a Beater like Fred and George."

"What's Quidditch?" Harry asked.

Ron looked at Harry as if he'd just committed a sacrilegious act. "Only the most brilliant sport in the whole world! You play one brooms and have to fly to score with the Quaffle while avoiding the Bludger, and then the Seeker has to catch the Snitch. It's really dangerous too, sometimes people get hurt or vanish and turn up the next county over a few weeks later. No one's died in years though."

"Sounds brilliant! Do you think they'll teach us to play in class?" Harry asked as they hurried down the steps. He came to a sudden halt. "Oh. Fantastic. Of course we're with the Slytherins again."

Lined up outside were the Slytherin first years in their green accented robes. As soon as they saw Harry and Ron on the steps, several Slytherins turned away and sniggered. Others openly pointed and laughed.

"Going to try flying to the moon, McAllister?" someone called.

Harry ground his teeth, and Ron clenched his fists.

"Just ignore them," Hermione said, coming up behind Harry and Ron.

Neville looked to Harry, who simply shrugged. "I don't want to get in trouble now. Let's just be the best damn fliers here and make them look like idiots."

The four Gryffindors were soon joined by the others in their year, and trooped out to the field as Madam Hooch, the flight instructor, appeared.

"Right, no waiting around. Everyone, find a broom and stand by it. No, one of you to a broom. Crabbe, Goyle, you're both far too large to even be considering sharing. Right, everyone have a broom then? Extend your hand and say, 'up!'"

Cries of "up" filled the grounds. Harry's broom snapped straight into his hand after his first word. Ron's took two or three, but Hermione's and Neville's simply flopped around on the ground for several seconds before reluctantly hovering up to their hands.

"Very good, very good. Now this is you you mount a broom properly. Watch where my hands are. You need to have a proper grip to get the most performance out of your broom. Malfoy, stop sneering at Longbottom. His grip's a far sight better than yours. You've obviously developed your grip wrong. Like this! No, no, there. Better."

Harry carefully matched his hands to where Madam Hooch's were.

"Right then. There is simply no way to learn to fly without actually flying. So, when I blow my whistle you'll kick off from the ground, hard. Hover for a few moments, then lean forward to descend back to the ground. Don't lean to far or you'll fall of flat on your face." She quickly demonstrated the proper technique, then once she was back on the ground gave a sharp blast on her whistle.

Harry kicked off easily, getting a good ten feet in the air. He felt a thrill down his spine, and glanced around to see how everyone else was doing. Ron was on a level with him, as was Draco and a few others. They all leaned forward and started back down towards the ground.

Except for Hermione, who did exactly as Madam Hooch had told them not to, and tipped straight off of her broom. She landed with a loud thump.

Ron was instantly at Hermione's side, Harry only a step behind. Hermione was biting her lip, trying to keep the tears back, but it was obvious she was in a great deal of pain. Her forehead had a large gash which was bleeding profusely, as head wounds are bound to do. Without thinking, Harry ripped his robe's sleeve and quickly bound the wound as Madam Hooch elbowed her way forward.

"That's exactly what I was talking about. You have to keep a firm grip and lean forward, not lay flat and then fall straight off. Yes, that's a rather nasty gash. Probably have a concussion as well. Right then, hospital wing for you."

"I can help," Ron said, putting his shoulder under Hermione's arm and helping her stand. "Give me a hand, Neville."

Neville quickly took her other side, and followed after Madam Hooch, he and Ron having to carry the still dazed Hermione.

"Stupid mudbloods, can't even sit a broom properly. Probably didn't help that she was carrying trash like this." Harry turned to find Draco sneering while he held up Hermione's book on spaceships.

"Hey! Drop it Draco, that's Hermione's!" Harry cried, stepping forward angrily.

"What are you going to do, McAllister? Make me?" Draco drawled.

Crabbe stepped forward, flexing his arm menacingly. Harry punched him in the solar plexus then danced away from his pawing arm, then hit him hard on the side of the head. The bigger Slytherin dropped, and Goyle paused at seeing his compatriot handled so easily. Draco paled slightly, then shouted "Up!" and lifted into the air on his broom, still clutching the book.

"Come and get it McAllister! Oh, that's right, you can't, they don't have brooms at your muggle house, just make believe rubbish!"

"Up!" in a moment, Harry was level with Draco, closing fast. He wasn't going to take any more guff from Draco, and he wasn't going to let Hermione continue to be insulted. "Give it back Malfoy, or Hermione won't be the only one in the hospital wing!"

Draco sped away across the grounds, and Harry followed. It was difficult to keep pace and course, the broom was vibrating now and veering slightly to the left, but Harry had eyes only for Draco and managed to stay the course.

"Fine, you want it so bad McAllister, catch!" Draco suddenly went into a steep climb, then tossed the book as hard as he could.

Harry reacted without thinking, doing a loop in midair to reverse course and going into a dive to catch the book. He let go of the broom with his hands, keeping a grip with his legs. He managed to catch the book a bare foot from the ground, and had to climb again to avoid a crash.

"HARRY MCALLISTER! YOU GET DOWN HERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT!"

Harry flushed and gulped. Professor McGonagall was striding towards him, gesticulating wildly for him to descend immediately. Reluctantly, Harry leaned forward and brought his broom down gently. He tucked his book in his robes and scuffed the ground with his trainers.

"Professor I-"

"I don't want to hear a word of it! Such reckless! Of all the things! I never!"

"Malfoy was being a git, ma'am," Dean said loudly. "He really insulted Hermione, then he-"

"Mr. Thomas I won't want to hear another word! Mr. McAllister, with me, now. If any of you even thinks of touching those brooms before Madam Hooch returns, you'll have detentions until you graduate!"

Harry sulked after Professor McGonagall, focused on how massively unfair the whole thing was. Draco had been flying recklessly too, but McGonagall didn't even seem to care, and she was his head of house. They began to descend into the dungeons, and Harry started to become worried. He'd heard rumors from older students that Argus Filch, the caretaker, kept some instruments of torture down in dank old chambers. When they stopped in front of the Potions classroom though, Harry was slightly confused.

"Professor Snape, my apologies, I need Wood for a while," McGonagall called into the classroom.

After a moment, the older Gryffindor boy who'd explained the wizarding world's prejudices against squibs appeared, looking rather confused.

"McAllister, Wood, come," McGonagall ordered. They went a few paces away from the classroom, Harry and Wood exchanging confused looks.

McGonagall turned after a few paces, but instead of looking furious as Harry had thought she would, she was beaming. "Oliver, I think I've found you a Seeker!"

Wood's face brightened instantly. "Really, Professor? McAllister's just a first year, and practically a muggle born to boot. You don't really think-"

"He's a natural. Better than Charlie Weasley in his prime!" McGonagall said, her tone near rhapsodic.

Harry studied Oliver and McGonagall carefully "So…I'm not in trouble then?"

McGonagall harrumphed. "I'll give you a choice, Po-McAllister. Either you agree to play Quidditch for Gryffindor, or do lines for me for a month. And not because of your stunt earlier, but because I simply couldn't bear to see such talent go to waste."

"And because I'm not nearly half as mad for Quidditch as you ma'am," Wood said, giving the Professor a grin and a wink. "Oh relax Harry, she's not serious. Ever played a game of Quidditch?"

"Erm, no, but Ron told me it was a sport you played on brooms and that it was kind of dangerous, so naturally I'm all for it. I think flying is my all time favorite."

Nodding, Wood began to pace around Harry. "Good, good. You've got the build for a Seeker too. You'll need a decent broom though. One of the new Clean Sweeps, or a Nimbus would be ideal. Think we can manage that, Professor? He's a firstie after all."

"I'll make the arrangements with the Headmaster and write to his parents," McGonagall vowed. "Harry, do you think they could be persuaded to get you a broom?"

Harry remembered his father's wistful face when commenting on the fact that they couldn't get Harry a broom this year, probably thinking of what an excellent opportunity was going to waste to analyze such an important wizarding tool in the lab. "Oh, I think they'll come round, Professor. My father was in the paras you know. He's rather keen on flying, and he knows I am too. What's the best broom around, for reference?"

"The Nimbus 2000," Wood and McGonagall said together.

Thinking of how delighted his parents would be with the great strides he'd made uncovering the wizarding world's secrets and recruiting new allies, Harry flushed with excitement. "Well then, I'll just have to tell my dad nothing else in the world would do for an aspiring Quidditch player like me."

A slightly predatory look came over McGonagall's face. It reminded Harry of a cat who'd just caught a bird it hadn't really thought it would. "Severus will never know what hit him."

Later that evening, Harry was up in the third year boys dorm, alone with Fred and George. They'd convinced Lee Jordan and their other bunk mates to clear off, having implied that several spectacular stinks were about to begin emanating from their combined poster beds. Harry was carrying his and Hermione's books on space, having gotten permission from her after visiting her in the hospital wing.

Fred and George were simply devouring the books, their faces lit with intense interest and pleasure.

"There's just so much here we don't even understand," George muttered as he studied the diagram of a Saturn V rocket.

Fred nodded, he was studying a Soyuz diagram. "None of this is magic at all. I don't really get how they can make such sustained explosions without bewitching or enchanting stuff."

"Look at how heavy this stuff was," George said, pointing to a picture describing the fuel payload.

"Yeah. 2000 tonnes of the stuff. But I bet with the right magic, you could create just as much thrust without nearly that much weight."

"But then you wouldn't NEED that much thrust, if you reduced the weight of the fuel."

"Right, right, because the payload could be lighter. Or-"

"Heavier payload, but less fuel!"

"Brilliant!"

They both turned to look at Harry, who was suppressing a grin. "Sure you don't think it's all muggle rubbish?" he asked.

George made a rude sound, and Fred shook his head. "Look, we didn't get much schooling in maths, mums not too keen on them. But we're right brilliant at them. Have to be, to pull of the pranks we have."

"Yeah, you've got to calculate exactly how much manticor blood it will take to power your fireworks-"

"-or how much Pixie dust it will take to levitate an object of a certain mass, say one cat around the size of Mrs. Norris, for three hours-"

"-or how much Kelipe venom will put your enemies to sleep, but not hurt them-"

"-right. The point is, we're good at that sort of thing. Always have been."

"And the maths here make sense, Harry."

"We can't prove it, we don't know how-"

"-and even if we did it would probably be too much for us now-"

"-but we could learn how."

"So, tell us, how could you put us in connection with the people who COULD teach us this?"

"And make us the very first wizards on the moon."

"Or Mars."

"Venus might be better"

"We're not picky, point is-"

"-we've always had one goal in mind."

Harry looked back and forth between the two twins, struggling to keep track of who was whom and who was talking. "What goal is that?"

"To be rich."

"And famous."

"Or famously rich."

"To be unforgettable."

"To bring a laugh to everyone-"

"-and never be a joke ourselves."

"You may not have noticed this Harry-"

"-but ickle Ronnikins has a bit of an inferiority complex."

"Don't tell him, but he's not the only one."

"And don't tell Dad-"

"-or God help us, Mum-"

"-but we don't want to end up like our father."

"Stuck doing what other people tell him-"

"-the butt of every joke at the ministry-"

"-too poor to afford to actually pursue our dreams-"

"-and forced to do things for other people-"

"-who get the credit for every good deed we do-"

"-while we get all the blame."

Feeling slightly confused, Harry frowned. "But your dad seems like a great bloke, and he seems to be a pretty good wizard."

Fred blew out his cheeks, and George shook his head. "Oh, don't get us wrong. Dad's a great chap."

"We love him dearly."

"But he's a small part of a big thing-"

-instead of being a big part of a small piece of history."

Harry considered that for a moment. "So, you'd actively consider working for muggles, even if you ended up breaching the international statute of secrecy or whatever?"

Fred and George exchanged looks, then nodded. "Of course."

"Always thought it was a bit stupid anyway."

"Muggles have some great stuff."

"Big fans of Roman Candles."

"And juggling. Taught ourselves ages ago, though it's easier with a bit of magic."

Harry thought hard. "Alright, I can't make any promises now. Or tell you too much. But I will tell you this much: some muggles have had it."

That elicited raised eyebrows from Fred and a frown from George. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, think about it. Do you really think the muggles didn't notice it when Voldemort-oh, grow up, he's not a demon or something, he won't appear if I say his name. Anyway, when Voldemort was going around blowing up villages and killing people left and right, do you really think the muggles never noticed."

George sat back, thinking hard, but Fred shrugged. "I figured they did, but the Ministry just obviated anyone who really did notice."

"You can't mind wipe everyone with a brain. And you can't obviate a computer."

Fred glanced down at the book that was still in his lap. "Yeah, meant to ask you, what is a computer? I keep seeing it mentioned, but I haven't the faintest what one of those is."

Harry rubbed his chin. "I'm probably not the best person to explain. But I think I know someone who is?"

"Who?" George demanded.

"Hermione. She's bloody brilliant. And some friends of my Dad's. But listen. This isn't something we can talk about at school. I'll write to my folks, and my dad can come up with a plan. But if you're really serious, there is one thing you can do now."

"What?"

"We'll do anything. Well, almost anything."

"Yeah. We won't snog Malfoy for you."

Harry just ignored the last one. "Study hard. Become the best damn wizards you can. Because if you do throw in your lot with the right people, they'll need every ounce of magical know-how at their disposal."

"That would really take the piss out of the Ministry," Fred said, frowning.

"And be the best bloody prank of the millennia. We'll do it."

After a moment, Fred nodded as well. "Why not. Who wants to just be a regular old wizard anymore?"

Later, as Harry composed his letter to his father, he couldn't help the huge grin on his face. Things were going better than he'd ever imagined, and far faster too. What could possibly go wrong now?


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 10: Shades

Tom read Harry's latest letter carefully, torn between smiling at his son's brilliance and progress, and frowning at his reckless charge forward. He looked up at Hedwig, thinking about his response. "Why don't you rest now then? Got some live mice and a few of those owl treats Hagrid bought. Sound alright?"

Hedwig bobbed her head, and Tom tossed her a treat then walked into the kitchen. "Another letter from Harry," he told his wife. He handed the letter over as he poured himself a cuppa out of the kettle.

Quickly taking in the letter, Alice smiled wanly. "Well, he does seem to be making progress at least. And friends. I think that's what does my heart the most good. This Neville boy seems like a good sort from the letter, and the Weasley's are a good family."

"Wassat 'bout the Weasley's?" Becky yawned as she plodded into the room, rubbing at her eyes. She took the cup of tea her father handed her and sipped at it, then read the letter her mother passed to her. "Fred and George want to be astronauts? Ginny says they're hellions. Sure we want them?"

"I don't think we'll be trusting them with any national secrets right out of the gate," Tom said, taking the letter back. "But we can use any help available. Besides, Mr. Weasley is far more accepting of our world than I had been lead to believe most wizards would be."

"What about the Draco kid Harry mentioned? He sounds like a proper, um," Becky glanced at her mother and made a last second word swap, "-ly nasty person."

Shaking her head, Alice leaned back in her own chair. "Griphook alluded to most wizards being quiet biased against people who weren't 'proper' wizards, including goblins. He made it sound as though most wizards would never consult a goblin or a norm in regards to anything, even their finances which are not exactly a common career path for those with magic."

"So, what? We help Ginny's brother become astronauts or something? How does that help us?" Becky demanded as she poured herself a bowl of cold cereal.

"Never you mind," Tom said. "That's not something even I know. All I know is that we are to recruit young maggies and keep Harry safe. The rest is for command to decide. At this point I'd wager they don't even have an endgame, just a desire not to be so in the dark in regards to things magical."

"Perhaps we should invite the Weasley's over for dinner soon," Alice said. "Ask your superiors. We're already having the Grangers over Wednesday. They sounded so delighted to actually be able to talk about this with someone."

"Aye, we'll probably end up playing hosts to them as well. Having an inside source of information at the Ministry of Magic is ideal. And honestly, I rather enjoy their company. Right now they're alone with their daughter as well. Ginny seems like she needs a friend."

"And an education," Becky declared through a mouthful of cereal. "She didn't even know about Jane Austen or Tolkien! Honestly, I can understand not keeping up with all the American stuff, but to not even know English authors? It's an outrage."

Alice nodded and passed Tom a plate of toast for his own breakfast. "Just focus on being her friend for now, love. You're both lonely and missing your brothers. Don't try and shove the entirety of British culture down her throat."

"She's at least got to read the Hobbit," Becky groused. "It's loads better than the Lockhart stuff. His books are too full of themselves."

"Mind your mother, love," Tom said as he quickly penned a letter back to Harry. "And make sure you write your brother. Hedwig gets antsy if she hangs around the house too long."

"Yes sir," Becky agreed. "I'll do it before judo practice."

 _Dear Harry,_

 _Things are going well at home. Mom and dad are proud of you I think and I am too. Schools interesting, but probably not as interesting as being a wizard! I'm not too jealous though. Alright I am but thats besids the point. Anyway tell Ron and Fred and George and Percy that me and Ginny are mates now so she won't be lonly. Oh and Im going out for my brown belt in judo so wish me luck!_

 _Luv, your sister, Rebecca McAlister_

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I am so proud of you! You bless my heart with your frequent letters, and I look forward to each of them. Hearing that you have made so many friends in such a short time is an ease on my mind that I know you won't be able to understand until you have children of your own. It has been so hard for your father and I, having you so far away in a place we cannot reach nor truly be a part of. Know that no matter what happens, your father and I will still love you and be proud of you. Make sure you are eating properly, I don't know much about wizarding foods but I do know that even young wizards need to eat fruits and vegetables!_

 _To contradict myself properly I've included a small care package of your favorites; treacle tart, Mars Bars and biscuits. Make sure to share them with your friends! Mind your teachers and do your best. I will always love you, and you will always be my baby boy._

 _Love, mum_

 _Son,_

 _I can't begin to tell you how proud of you I am. Make sure to move forward with things slowly and surely. Don't try to make friends with everyone, only those who will stand by you in your quests and life. Keep safe, and let us know if you have any trouble. I won't pretend that I have any pull with the headmaster or any of the teachers, but there are still things that can be done. We can talk more later. I've included a book on morse code. Learn it visually and auditorily. It might come in handy sometime._

 _Maj. Tom McAllister, SAS_

 _Your dad_

The weeks at Hogwarts seemed to simply fly by. In Harry's case, that was quite literal. He had been excused from flying lessons, instead spending the time with Oliver Wood or one of the other players on the Quidditch team practicing. This meant that Harry was around Fred and George even more, and though it made Ron slightly jealous, Harry was excited to have found two real wizards who were so very interested in the muggle world.

"Don't see why you have to spend so much time with them," Ron grumbled at breakfast. "They take enough things, they don't have to try to steal my mates as well."

"Relax Ron. They're just really interested in space. Besides, we're on the quidditch team together now. I have to spend time with them. I still spend more time with you. Come on, after classes we can play chess again."

"You're not spending enough time studying, Harry," Hermione said. "Your grades will suffer if you don't pay more attention to your classes and less to quidditch and other silly games."

"It's not a silly game, it's quidditch!" Ron protested despite his lingering jealousy that Harry was on the team.

"I think she's right mate, you and Harry got lower marks than even I did on our last essays," Neville said, once more following Hermione's lead.

Harry and Ron looked at each other and rolled their eyes. "That's because it was bloody Herbology Neville. You and Hermione are fighting over who gets top marks there for the whole bloody school," Ron said.

"We did fine in on the history essay," Harry pointed out.

Hermione sniffed loudly. "That's because you just copied my notes. Again! I'm not letting you do the same thing for our potions essays. Have you even started those?"

"You'll still help me, right Hermione?" Neville said, sounding slightly panicked.

"Of course I will, Neville. Unlike some people you've been helping me revise mine for the last two days. Half the work is probably yours by now anyway."

Neville beamed and Ron and Harry, who both made rude noises. "It'll be fine. Ron and I will write ours together during History of Magic today and you can lend us your notes."

Before Hermione could launch into another lecture it was time to head off to class, DADA lessons then History. Harry and Ron did indeed spend the period working on their essays, as the other Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were quietly doing. As long as you occasionally glanced up at Professor Bins and looked mildly productive, you could do whatever you wanted as the incorporeal professor would drone on endlessly about whatever the topic of the day was. True to form, Hermione once again shared her notes, as one of the Hufflepuff students did as well. They appeared to have some sort of rotation, where one of them would take notes while the others did homework.

"See, even the hard working 'puffs crib notes," Ron pointed out as he performed the copying charm after class. "Plus, I've learned loads. You taught me this charm and now I can use it perfectly. Brilliant."

"Yeah, thanks Hermione, Ron" Harry said, accepting a copy that Ron conjured for him. He was still struggling to perform the charm as well as his two other friends. Hermione was insistent that she wasn't letting Harry or Neville charm any of her notes until he could perform the spell to her exacting standards. Ron took it as a point of pride that he was better than Harry at something, and was happy to show off for the others.

Suddenly, a barrage of dung bombs peppered the group, followed by a piercing wail that was supposed to pass for song;

" _OOOOOOOO! Potter he's notter_

 _he's really a rotter_

 _He copies the notes of his beaver faced chum!_

 _His wand is quite limp he's really quite dumb-"_

"Oh bloody hell," Harry grumbled, a sentiment Ron echoed.

"Come on, this way!" Hermione cried, and the group ran, trying to lose Peeves as their other classmates scattered away from the putrid fuselage.

"Will he ever get sick of this?" Harry demanded as they fled up a flight of stairs.

"Dunno, ask Fred and George. I think they're the only students he actually listens too," Ron said as they dodged around another corner.

After ten minutes of dodging dung bombs and listening to Peeves increasingly nonsensical and insulting verses, the group managed to round a corner while Peeves was still far enough back not to see them.

"Quick here! Alohomora!" Hermione opened a door and the group hurried inside, slamming it behind them. Outside, they could hear the wailing of Peeves as he passed by, then sped down the halls.

"I think he's gone," Harry said his ear to the door.

"Guys," Neville whispered.

"Give him a moment Harry, make sure he's long gone" Hermione lectured.

"Guys!" Neville said again, his voice climbing an octave.

Ron shook his head, looking through the keyhole. "We never seem to really lose him. He always comes back."

"GUYS!" Neville said again, his voice now cracking it was so high pitched.

Three irritated faces turned to Neville. "What?!"

A trembling hand pointed upward. "Dog." Three pairs of eyes followed Neville's pointing finger upwards. "Big dog."

Shaking themselves slightly as if to wake from sleep, three pairs of eyes peered back. A low, rumbling growl seemed to make the dark room vibrate as an enormous three headed dog stood up.

All four firsties scrambled to reopen the door, falling outside in a heap.

"That was close," Harry groaned from the bottom of the pile as he scrambled for his glasses, which had slipped off in the chaos.

"Oh, no my sweets. It was just right," a harsh voice rasped.

"Meow."

"Oh bloody hell," Ron groaned.

The friends found themselves seized by their robes and bodily hauled to their feet. Argus Flitch grinned a gap toothed, malicious grin. "Look what we found, love," he cooed to his cat, Mrs. Norris. "Four little lost lambs. Going places they shouldn't. Finding things they oughtn't."

"It was Peeves," blurted Neville.

"He was chasing us," agreed Harry.

"Lost track of where we were," explained Ron.

"We just wanted to hide," pleaded Hermione.

"SILENCE!" The four friends fell silent, swallowing and dropping their gazes to their feet. "The right hand corridor on the third floor is forbidden! I'll have you for this! And don't go blaming Peeves! I caught him throwing dung bombs at portraits on the left hand side! It'll be detention for this. Oh yes, perhaps they'll let me break out the ankle chains for this one. Nothing teaches a life long lesson like a few hours hanging from your ankles in the dungeons."

As it turned out, Professor Snape, the first professor Filch could find, didn't quite agree about the ankle chains. "No, Argus, not the ankle chains. The headmaster wouldn't approve of damaging his latest pet." He gave Harry a sneer as he said the last.

"Well, what about the Forbidden Forest? Good way to teach a lesson, might even get mauled," Argus said, his eyes glowing malevolently.

"Sir, we didn't realize where we were," Harry said, stepping forward and speaking to Snape. "We accept our punishment, but honestly, we just got lost. We won't do it again. Can we just serve our detentions with you? I know you'll treat us fairly."

Ron goggled at the idea of being at Snape's mercy, though one look at Filch's face prevented him from speaking against Harry's plea.

"You would rather serve your intentions with me than working for Mr. Filch? I thought you loathed your time there, Mr. McAlister."

"Better potions than monsters," Neville muttered, blushing when he realized he's said it out loud.

Shrugging, Harry put on his most winning grin. "I know you'll treat us fairly sir, and that you only have our safety at heart. That's what you're always on us for in class, right?" Harry's heart pounded slightly. He had practice at getting into and out of trouble with teachers, but he knew that with Snape it wasn't a question of whether or not he was going to be punished, but rather how unpleasant that punishment would be.

"Fine. You will four will see me this evening after dinner. Five points each from Gryffindor for endangering yourselfs. Perhaps it will help you retain a better sense of direction in the future." With a swirl of his robes, Snape stalked off in the direction Filch had just lead Harry and his friends from.

"You four are lucky. It could have been the forest for you. Something's been killing the unicorns. I'm certain it wouldn't mind an extra snack or four," Filch growled.

After dinner the four friends dutifully trooped down to the dungeons. Professor Snape was at his cauldron, stirring occasionally. He pointed to the messy classroom without looking up. "You will find cleaning supplies in the back cabinet labeled as such. I expect this room to be silent as you work. You are hear for punishment, not socialization." The classroom was filled with spilled ingredients and dirty cauldrons, and a faint smell of burned hair.

Hermione raised a hand, standing for a moment until Snape looked up. "What is it, Granger?"

"Please sir, we've just learned the cleaning charm, mightn't we use it to help with the cleaning? Harry's having a hard time with it and so is Neville and Ron and I-"

"Struggling with basic cleaning charms, Potter? Too good to get your hands dirty?" Snape growled as he added in a handful of ingredients to his cauldron.

Harry quickly shook his head and sent a glare at Hermione. "No sir, I'm fine with no magic. I've done plenty of cleaning for my parents before, and they're muggles so I'm used to doing it with elbow grease. I'm pants at the charm anyway."

"Your birth mother was rather adapt at charms as I recall," Snape said, his gaze lowering back to the cauldron. He seemed about to say more when Harry interrupted him.

"You knew my birth mother sir? I...I don't know much about her. I really want to, did you know her?"

Snape was silent again, stirring his cauldron. He stopped and carefully set the spoon aside. "Very well. You may use magic."

Hermione and the others ran off to start immediately, but Harry lingered behind, trying to catch Snape's eye.

"McAlister!" Snape snapped, suddenly looking up. His own black eyes seemed to bore into Harry's own, and he felt a slight pressure. It eased after a moment. "You will clean as well. After, we shall talk."

The detention seemed to drag on forever. Hermione and Ron showed the proper cleaning charms, and by the end of two hours Harry even began to master them. Finally, every cauldron was cleaned, every spill scoured away, and the classroom set to rights. Snape inspected their work, then nodded. "Very well. You are dismissed."

Ron seemed reluctant to leave Harry alone with the menacing potions master, but Hermione dragged him off. Neville paused, patting Harry on the arm. He didn't say anything, just smiled at Harry, then at Snape, and trundled after the now arguing Ron and Hermione.

The world seemed to press in on Harry, and he found himself breathing very fast. His vision narrowed on Snape, who was standing and studying Harry. With a flick of his wand, Snape brought a chair over.

"Sit, Mr. McAlister."

Obediently, Harry sat and looked up at Snape, hope and fear warring within his chest. "What...what were my parents names?"

"No one has ever told you?" Snape demanded, appearing taken aback by the simple question.

"Well, no. Not really. I know they were the Potters, and I know they were killed by Darth Volde-something-"

A corner of Snape's mouth twitched slightly. "They were indeed killed by the Dark Lord. Do not speak his name. However, referring him to as Darth in my presence is acceptable."

"You saw Star Wars?" Harry asked with a grin, feeling his tension lessen slightly.

"Indeed. It was Lily who took me to see it the summer it came out. She was your mother."

"Lily," Harry repeated savoring the name. "And she liked Star Wars and was good with charms?"

"Yes." Snape studied Harry's face again, once more peering into his eyes. "You have her eyes."

Reaching up slowly, Harry felt at his face. "She had green eyes? Like me?"

"Quite. A moment." Snape opened his desk drawer, and carefully removed a small box. He muttered, "Always." The box sprang open, and gently, reverently, Snape lifted out a photo from the box. He held it in his hands for a moment, as if to lock the image upon it in his mind forever. Then he passed the photo to Harry. "This is rightfully yours."

In the picture, a young woman was laughing. She had long auburn hair, piercing green eyes, and an air of life and excitement about her that was telling even in the small photo. Next to her sat a dark lanky haired youth with sallow features. He appeared to be fighting off a smile, occasionally breaking into a grin as the girl next to him embraced him.

"Is this you and my mum?" Harry asked very quietly, touching the girl's face gently with his finger and stroking it.

"That is Lily Evans and myself, the summer of our 5th year. This is perhaps the last photo of us together and happy. We had a...falling out that year. I said something I will regret until the end of my days, and it hurt her deeply. In the end, it led to you. She turned to your father, as I had tarnished our relationship."

Tears filled Harry's eyes, and he rubbed at his face. "Who was my dad?"

"James Potter," Snape growled, his voice no longer soft and caring as it once had been. Harry looked up in shock. "He was my tormentor, and I his greatest adversary."

"My dad was a bully?" Harry asked, feeling his throat close up once again.

"Your father was capable of great cruelty. He was the golden boy, one that no one could touch, especially not one such as I."

"What do you mean sir?"

"I too was raised in the muggle world. My mother was a witch, but a poor one. I heard about your familial situation before your current parents took you in. Petunia was always a bitch." He glanced at Harry's shocked expression. "Your aunt beat you, child. You were locked in a cupboard, starved, and forgotten. I learned of it from one who knows, though I will not name her. It was a situation all to reminiscent of my own upbringing. I would not wish that upon any child, not even Jame Potter's, and most assuredly not Lily's. You seem rather taken with your current family."

Harry quickly nodded. "Yes sir. My mum and dad, the McAlister's that is, they love me. And I love them. They told me I was going to be a wizard and that my parents had been killed, and that-"

Harry cut himself off, looking away from Snape. He's almost said "and that I need to find wizards to help them the next time a Darth Wannabe shows up."

"Look at me." Snape commanded.

Slowly Harry turned and met Snape's gaze. The pressure returned, but Harry didn't break eye contact. He was grateful to Snape, and the man seemed to be looking for signs of injury or lies.

Snape suddenly reeled back, shock on his face. "They wouldn't, they couldn't-" he cut himself off, placing a hand over his mouth.

"They never hurt me!" Harry exclaimed. "I mean, I got paddled sometimes and grounded, but that's because I was bad. I mean really bad, like hit my sister or snuck a snake into the girls lav at school or-"

"Enough!" Snape growled. "You are more of James's son than I thought!"

"I'm Tom and Alice's son now," Harry said quietly. "You out of all the teachers here seemed to respect that. Was I wrong about that, sir?" This time the title was acerbic.

Snape studied Harry carefully. "Tell me, Mr. Mcalister," Snape put special emphasis on the name this time. "Do you think your new father and mother could have stopped the Dark Lord? Do you truly believe that they could have prevented the death of your birth mother and so many others?"

The question stunned Harry. For a moment, he couldn't think, couldn't come up with an answer. How did Snape know to ask that? He swallowed, studying his feet dangling from the chair. Finally he looked up again. "I don't know. But I do know that my dad and his mates, his troops, are trained to fight. They they fight bad men all the time, and win. That unlike my mum and dad, who from what I know were just regular people, they are trained for fighting, and they are willing to die. Because that's the risk they take. But they do it because they love Queen and Country, and so that people like Lily and James Potter don't have to die."

Snape was silent again, once more locking gazes with Harry. The pressure built, but Harry didn't look away. Finally, Snape nodded. "Very well. I have much to think on, Mr. McAlister. In the morning, I want you here, in my office, before class. You have double potions anyway. We shall determine your fate, and the fate of your family, then."

Confused, Harry nodded and slipped off his chair, hurrying from the dungeon. He had a long letter to write tonight, and he was going to need to use the morse code book to write it he thought.

Once Harry was gone, Snape at alone, long into the night. He pulled another picture from the box, this one unmoving. It was he and Lily before they had started at Hogwarts, ready to depart to Platform 9 ¾. His finger carefully traced Lily's features, barely touching the polaroid. He closed his eyes, carefully setting down the picture and putting his head in his hands. What would she have wanted? He had seen it all, in Harry's mind. The outlines of the muggles plans. There had been several people in Harry's memories who had known. It was a conspiracy, and perhaps the greatest threat to the wizarding world since Dummy in 1863.

But would she have lived? He raised his eyes from his hands looking at Lily's smiling face.

To die so that others did not need to. That was what she had done. She had sacrificed herself, it had been she who slew the Dark Lord in truth, not Harry. The misplaced credit had always felt bitter to Snape, but he knew Lily would have wanted her child to receive the blessings, not herself.

But that protection was gone. Dumbledore was certain: the blood magic his mother had used had been tied to her own blood, to her sister. If Harry had stayed with his relatives, they would have protected him. That protection was gone now. To imagine otherwise was futile.

That did not mean Lily's child was defenseless, however. This Major McAlister, he was a soldier. Snape had seen that in Harry's mind. Harry was certain that his father would die for him, that he would do everything in his power to protect Harry. Snape was not as dismissive of muggle protections as some in the wizarding world. He had grown up in the muggle world, and knew of the destruction muggles could visit upon their foes. Had not the entire world lived in fear of the muggles obliterating everything with their bombs? No wizard or witch would have survived, such a holocaust would have annihilated everyone, magical and non-magical alike. If the muggles turned their wills to protecting Harry, he would be protected. Perhaps not as completely or in the same way as he would have been with Lily's magic, but protected all the same.

He should tell Dumbledore. He should tell the Minister of Magic, for all the good that bumbling oaf Fudge would do. Still, memories could be altered. The muggle plans were not complete, they still relied on secrecy to keep their little cabal operational. But if Snape did so, if he did alert the wizarding world to their peril, what would happen to Harry? The answer was obvious: death. He would be removed from his muggle family. Then someone, a former death eater, a prospective dark lord, or even the Dark Lord himself, would swoop in and slay the Boy-Who-Lived without the meager protection the muggles offered.

Could Snape sacrifice Harry? Could he offer up Lily's child as an offering on the altar of war, as Snape was increasingly certain was Dumbledore's plan?

No. Never again.

Always.


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Like a Spider in His Web

"Perhaps, headmaster, if we had bothered to explain to the idiot child why keeping the name of Potter was so important, he would have been rather more receptive to such an idea." Snape tried to keep the venom out of his voice. He really did. He was not, however, successful, and he knew it.

"And I suppose you blame me for not picking up on how rather attached young mister 'McAlister' was to his adoptive family," Professor McGonagall snapped back.

This time Snape didn't even bother to try to sound polite. "Now that you mention it, I think if you'd focused rather more on the boy's attitudes and family and less on showing off that ridiculous flashy trick of yours yes, we might have had a better idea of the trouble we would be in!"

Minerva was turning a rather nice shade of puce when the headmaster cleared his throat.

"There is plenty of blame to go around. Severus, reports tell me you've hounded the boy mercilessly, both in class and out of it."

 _Not nearly as much as I could have,_ Snape thought with a degree of satisfaction. Oh, he had thought about it. If the boy had looked just a bit more like his father, had acted a bit more rash, Snape would have let loose all hell upon the youth. As it was, Snape felt he had been rather restrained.

"However I must confess I feel the majority of the blame lies on my shoulders," Dumbledore continued. "When I lost track of young Harry, I searched for him long and hard. Severus, you remember the inquiries you made of his aunt. And Minerva, you searched every orphanage for me. I myself have seen the insides of more muggle government agencies than I care to recall. And then I gave it up as a bad job, since I could not fathom that any Death Eaters would succeed where we had failed. I did not take into account that in doing so, I was failing Harry. I am sure you have noticed it, his magic is not what one would expect."

Snape shrugged. "He does well enough in potions class. He is by no means an exemplary student, but at least he is not as much of an idiot as many of his peers."

"He has none of his father's skill or finesse," Minerva said. "He's not a bad student, he certainly applies himself, but he's middling average at best. From what Filius has said, he's below average in charms. Not for lack of trying, mind, he just lacks the talent."

"I'm afraid the Potter magic has abandoned Harry," Dumbledore said with a heavy sigh. "He has denied his birthright. And in doing so he has forever cursed himself."

Snape did his best to hide his unrepentant glee at the news, then remembered that this likely meant that Lily's son would perish, and actually deflated a bit. "Is there nothing that can be done?" Snape asked. "It would not do for the Dark Lord to arise and find his opponent unequal to the task of besting him."

"We must focus our efforts elsewhere," Dumbledore said, shaking his head. "It is to that end that I have brought you both here. I assume you have both noticed the changes to Quirinius?"

"Obviously," Snape said, avoiding rolling his eyes with an effort.

"There is something not quite right with that man," Minerva agreed. "It goes beyond the stutter. I don't feel right around him, Albus. Several students have remarked on that, including some who had him as a muggle studies teacher."

"While I am not certain as to the details, I believe Quirinius had an encounter with-"

"-with the Dark Lord, yes, we know Albus. Even Pomona has noticed he reeks of dark magic now, and that woman believes the best of even me." Snape glared at Minerva. "Oh yes, I know what you say about me in the staff room when I am not present. Even if you do defend me to the students, and Merlin only knows why you bother when you do so with such obvious reluctance, but only Pomona has ever expressed even mildly favorable opinions of myself."

"But, but You-Know-Who is dead," Minerva protested. "Harry defeated him in 10 years ago."

"No, Minerva, he did not." Dumbledore sighed and removed his spectacles to rub the bridge of his nose. "And Severus, perhaps if you did not cultivate such a dark air about yourself, there would be fewer rumors among the students and staff. You do not have to play the role of the spy to the hilt at every moment."

"Is that your excuse?" Minerva demanded. "You think that You-Know-Who, no, Albus, I am NOT saying that name no matter how you twinkle your eyes at me! Is returning and so you bully the students so that you can claim you only worked here to aid his cause? I doubt even you would play such a long game Severus!"

"We are losing focus," Dumbledore interjected before Snape could form a retort. "Quirinius is touched by Voldemort. I do not know if it is merely an oath, some form of compulsion, or, in the worst case, a kind of possession."

"I'd wager he sold his soul to the Dark Lord for knowledge and it broke the fool's mind," Snape growled. "He wouldn't be the first. Just let me check his forearm and we'll know the truth of it."

"No, Severus. There is a reason you and Minerva are here. We need a new plan, a new way to destroy the Dark Lord."

"You and I both know that there is only one candidate. Focus on him," Snape snapped. "Even if he's given his loyalty to the muggles, we could look to them as allies. They may lack magic, but they are far from helpless."

"Are you mad?" Minerva asked, looking thunderstruck. "Involve the muggles in our world? That would doom us more surely than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!"

"Minerva is correct, Severus. Would you really consider such a thing?" Dumbledore demanded.

Snape shrugged. "McAlister's adoptive father is a soldier, a rather capable one. He is a leader in their military and has connections. If we asked them for help, they could be powerful allies."

"I forbid further discussion along this line," Dumbledore said firmly. "We are out to save the Wizarding World, not turn ourselves into slaves, either those of Voldemort or the muggles."

Snape shrugged, hiding his own true thoughts. "It was only a suggestion. Very well, what is your new plan, Headmaster?"

"In a word, Longbottom."

Snape and Minerva both stared at the headmaster. Snape decided that Albus had finally gone well and truly mad. Elite, highly trained soldiers with decades of expertise in killing things were a fool's choice, and Dumbledore was suggesting they put their hopes in possibly the most hopeless wizard of his generation? Snape could not take the Headmaster seriously at all.

"Albus, what are you suggesting?" Minerva demanded, her face pale but her voice firm.

"If Voldemort is possessing Quirinius, he may choose to fulfill the prophecy in Longbottom. Yes, Minerva, there was a prophecy regarding who would defeat the dark lord. It has to be someone born at the end of July in 1980 to parents who thrice defied the dark lord. If Voldemort through Quirinius marks Longbottom as his equal, then he could defeat Voldemort. Harry not only lacks the magical talent to do so, but he is also too strongly tied to the muggle world. I had hoped he would embrace us with open arms, but he is ranting about muggle fairy tales and seems hell bent on prompting muggle superiority. While I have no use for ideology that labels any wizard as inferior to another, I also cannot condone an ideology what would make wizards less than muggles. It is only another version of the twisted message that Voldemort preaches."

"Longbottom is not much more magically strong than Harry, headmaster," Snape said, trying to be calm.

"Longbottom is stronger, magically," Minerva stated. "He has simply been repressed for most of his life. Iif we intervene now, he could become a champion of the light. His parents were great warriors in the last war, and if we can convince that old hag of a grandmother of his to encourage him, we might just succeed."

"He's friends with McAlister," Snape argued. "He'd be more likely to cower behind the one everyone believes is the chosen one then step up to become a hero himself."

"Not if he is given the appropriate guidance," Dumbledore said. "We are teachers. We can mold and shape him, lead him down the hero's path. I confess previously I had focused my thoughts on doing this for young Harry, but circumstances being what they are, this seems impossible."

Minerva nodded slowly. "I am for such an arrangement, but not if it means exposing Longbottom to harm. Teach him to a be a champion of the light yes, but he is still a child. We cannot allow him to come to harm."

Dumbledore chuckled to Snape's growing horror at the situation. "No, I am not in the business of raising child soldiers. We shall allow Voldemort to mark Longbottom only, but not to bring him harm. With the Dark Lord still so weak, this seems like the perfect time to do so. We must strive to give Neville as close to a normal childhood as we can, all the while teaching him how to fight and survive. Indeed, it is good that he is friends with Harry. If Harry can support his friend in the fight, we may just have two chosen ones on our hands. Such a situation can only work out to our good."

"And what would you have me do," Snape ground out.

Dumbledore sighed. "As much as I hate to say it, continue in your harsh treatment of the children, especially Neville. No outright harm, but if you present yourself as an ally of darkness not only will you be an effective spy, but you will also cement their hatred of darkness. When the time comes of course your role will be revealed and you redeemed, but that may be many years from now. You must also do your best to keep Quirinius in line. Intervene if necessary to prevent any real harm from coming to the students, but otherwise allow him to mark Longbottom. Plant the seeds that Neville may indeed be the true chosen one in his mind, and perhaps he will relay that to his Lord."

"Devious, Albus. And for myself?" Minerva asked.

"Take Longbottom under your wing. If he struggles in class, give him extra tutoring. Tell him stories of his parents bravery. Give him the courage of a lion, Minerva. Any question? My door is always open. I know you have had a long day, Minerva, Severus. Goodnight."

Snape stood as if to go as well, but Dumbledore caught his eye and Snape hung back. "What?"

"I have grave news, Severus. Please, sit down."

Snape did so, glaring at Albus. "I have already agreed to help in your foolish plan. I doubt very much that either boy will be a match for the Dark Lord, but if that is our only chance, it is our only chance."

"Have you ever wondered how the Dark Lord survived?" Dumbledore asked.

Snape shrugged. "I supposed it had something to do with some ritual he performed. He was rather obsessed with immortality."

"What do you know of his history?" Dumbledore asked. "His family history, that is?"

"Nothing. No one did. As far as I know, no one ever knew who the man who became Lord Voldemort was."

"His name was Tom Riddle. Do you know that name?"

Snape thought long and hard for a moment. "Riddle? Isn't that the name of a student who received some sort of award from the school many years ago for services rendered?"

"Indeed, most astute of you. I did a bit of searching, and found out a bit of his family history. I located where he had been born, and found something most unique." Reaching into a desk drawer, Dumbledore pulled out a dragon skin bag marked with a variety of protective runes. He dumped the contents onto the desk: a ring set with a only geometric black stone and plunked it on the desk. Without realizing what he was doing, Severus stretched out a hand towards the ring.

"Do not!" Snape snatched his hand back, coming back to his senses in shock. "Do not," Dumbledore repeated. "I confess, I was also tempted to touch it. Doubly so, for the stone the ring is set with is a most fascinating artifact. At the last moment, I stopped myself. I reasoned that if this had been Voldemort's ring, it would likely be trapped and cursed. And I was right. The ring is both trapped and cursed, but beneath all that it has and even darker property."

"What?" Snape asked, leaning slightly away from the ring. It practically radiated black magic.

"I believe the ring is a kind of phylactery," Dumbledore said. "The kind the necromancers of old were rumored to have created."

Snape let out a low hiss. "That is dark magic indeed, and it explains how he survived. How could he have created such a device?"

"I know not. I only just discovered the properties of the ring, but I wanted to ask you as my resident expert on dark magic if you knew more of it. I went searching for answers when it became increasingly obvious Harry could not and would not be the champion we needed. What I found is most disturbing. I believe that if we wish to find a way to truly stop Voldemort, we must unlock the secrets of this ring and destroy it."

"Have you tried?" Snape asked, looking up at Dumbledore and sending out a fant lance of legitimacy. It was easily rebuffed.

"The stone cannot be destroyed," Dumbledore said firmly. "It is an elder relic. Not even dragon fire could marr it. And the ring is bound to the stone. They must first be separated. To do that, I believe we must ascertain how the phylactery was created in the first place."

Snape nodded slowly. "I have some texts I can search, and a few contacts I could dig up. Slughorn might be a good place to start, you might do better to contact him than me."

"Horace?" Dumbledore asked, slightly taken aback. "What would he know of Dark Magic? He's rather too venial to be seriously in touch with dark magic."

"The fat old bastard is more dangerous than you know, Albus. He is like a spider; while it is his web that most notice, he hides dangerous venom himself. And, I dare say, if he did not know of phylactery creation himself, he would know someone that does. Be cautious how you word such an inquiry though. If he senses danger, he shall flee. Do not reveal the connection to Dark Lord, or this Tom Riddle if they are the same man. Say rather that you have uncovered a valuable old relic, and wish to know its nature, and will share with him any profits. Woo him with sweets and wine first. Offer him a meeting with young McAlister or young Longbottom. He would leap at such a chance. Do this and he may yet be able to tell you the nature of that dark object. Just don't let him see the thing himself: he would never have the restraint not to touch it."

"Good advice, thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said, stroking his beard. "You have given me much to think on." Carefully using the back, Dumbledore concealed the ring again and tucked it back in his desk. Snape knew it was better guarded than it appeared: aside from the Phoenix and Gargoyle, formidable in their own right, there were many protections on the headmaster's desk that made it nearly impossible for another to break into. Snape should know, he had tried to on occasion in the past with no success.

"Then I bid you goodnight. I shall alert you if my search bears any fruit. Goodnight, Albus."

With a bow, Snape stood and left. At the beginning of the meeting he had briefly considered telling Albus of muggle conspiracy, but now Snape was not so sure. Trusting in Longbottom to him seemed a fool's errand. He would bide his time and wait until he could be sure of who the victor would be. After all, that was the advantage of being a spy: To choose which side would most profit you, and ensuring that they succeeded. That might make it seem as if Snape lacked loyalty or true conviction, but nothing could be further from the truth. Snape had one loyalty: Not to the Dark Lord, not to Dumbledore, not even to young Harry. He was loyal to the memory of Lily Evans, and he would do whatever it took to redeem himself to her.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\

 _Authors note:_

 _A special early chapter as a thanks for 100 reviews and counting! I want to thank each and everyone one of you that has taken the time to review the story or favorite and/or follow. I try to get back to everyone who leaves a review and listen to feedback, though I know I'm not 100% successful in getting back to everyone. Thanks again, I truly appreciate each and every review I receive!_


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Down to the Dungeons

"I hate defense against the Dark Arts," Harry groused at the breakfast table. "Especially first thing in the morning. I get a bloody headache and then Snape makes it worse with his stupid glaring at me and then I'm rotten at transfiguration! And they've canceled flying lessons today because of the feast! This is a stupid day."

"At least you have the feast to look forward to, Harry," Ron said. "Fred and George said they really put on a spread. I bet they have pumpkin treacle tart."

"Why does everything taste like pumpkin!" Harry half shouted. "It's disgusting! Pumpkin juice, pumpkin pudding, pumpkin pasties, pumpkin pumpkin pumpkin! I hate pumpkin!"

"I'm sure there will be other stuff, Harry," Neville said placatingly. "It will be OK."

"No it won't," Harry growled, shoving away his meal. "I'm not hungry for pumpkin bloody porridge." He stood and stalked away from the breakfast table, leaving his three friends behind. Ron made to go after Harry, but Hermione motioned him back down.

"What's eating him?" Ron asked, looking confused and worried.

"Ron, what day is it?" Hermione said quietly.

"Um, October 31st? Halloween? Come on Hermione, you know that."

"Oh," Neville said. "Ron, did you see what Harry had last night in his bed?"

"He had that photo Snape gave him of his dead mum, yeah?" Ron looked blankly at Neville and Hermione for a moment, then he winced. "Oh. Yeah. Maybe I shouldn't have told him that Halloween was when his parents were killed. He did ask though."

"It was right for you to tell him, Ron," Hermione said. "We'll just have to cheer Harry up. I don't think he really knows much about his birth parents, and he's having a bit of a conflict over it."

"Why? He's got his own mum and dad now, right? And they're bloody brilliant."

"I think he feels guilty and homesick, Ron," Hermione said gently. "I know I do. I can't imagine how much worse it would be if one set of parents were dead and I was trying to learn about them, but at the same time I missed the parents I knew and I felt guilty over both."

Ron looked thoughtful, then stood up. "Yeah, come on Neville. Hermione, you stay here."

"I think he wants to be alone, Ron." Hermione lectured.

"He can be alone with his mates then," Ron said firmly. "We'll go pick a fight with him or something."

"I don't think that's a good idea!" Hermione hissed, trying to come after Neville and Ron, who had grabbed a few pieces of food and were going after Harry.

Neville put a restraining hand on Hermione and smiled. "Trust us, Hermione. This is a blokes thing. OK?"

Hermione muttered something under her breath that sounded a lot like "idiot boys" but stopped and went back to the breakfast table.

Ron and Neville found Harry in the third floor corridor standing in front of a suit of armor with clenched fists, his eyes puffy.

"Oi, Harry, catch!" Ron shouted, and threw an apple at Harry's head.

Harry spun and grabbed the apple just inches from his face. "Bloody hell Ron, are you trying to kill me!"

"Neville said you were going to get steamrolled by Slytherin in your first match in a couple of weeks. Thinks your reflexes stink," Ron said easily, leaning against a pillar and grinning impudently at Harry.

Looking at Ron in astonishment, Neville quickly turned back and nodded when Ron kicked him. "Um, yeah! I still think that the uh, snitch will be harder to catch than an apple."

"Oh really?"

Neville let out a squeak as the apple bounced off his forehead, thrown with perfect accuracy by Harry. Ron quickly threw another apple at Harry, who was too busy laughing at Neville to catch this one, and fell over when it clipped him in the ear. Neville picked up his own apple and chucked it at Ron, and before they knew it the three boys were letting out battle cries as fruit flew through the air making wet sounding splats as it hit bodies or walls.

"Stop this instant!" A low voice snarled, and the three young Gryffindors froze. Professor Quirrell was glaring at them, his turban slightly askew from where an apple had dealt it a glancing blow.

"Oh bugger," Ron muttered, his eyes wide.

"Foolish children!" Quirrel hissed. "You will…"Quirrel shook himself, and his voice returned to its normal nasally stutter. "You w-w-w-will c-c-c-clean this u-u-u-up! And and, serve d-d-detention tonight!"

With a quick straightening of his turban, Quirrel whirled away towards his classroom. Harry's forehead immediately exploded with pain, and he found himself on the ground as stars danced through his vision.

"Harry, Harry are you OK?" Neville's half panic voice asked through the pain.

Groaning, Harry tried to stand as the pain faded. "I think I'm OK," he mumbled.

"What is the meaning of this?" A new voice snarled.

"Bugger everything," Harry groaned.

"Professor Snape, I think Harry's hurt!" Neville cried before Ron could shush him.

In a swirl of dark robes Snape was there, looming over the three crouching boys. "Didn't learn your lesson the first time, boys?" He asked in a soft, dangerous voice. "And wasting food. I think that deserves-"

"It wasn't the apples, sir," Harry interrupted, his forehead still pounding. "I was fine until Quirrel showed up and started acting oddly. Harry rubbed at his scar, wincing slightly.

Snape knelt down, wand out, causing the boys to flinch away. "I'm not going to hurt you, foolish children," Snape snapped. "Come here, McAlister." Gently, Snape tapped Harry's scar with his wand. "Does that hurt?"

"No, sir, it's fading now. It just started hurting when Quirrel was acting all funny and angry at us."

"Yeah, he sounded half normal for once," Ron agreed.

"A point from Gryffindor for disrespecting a professor, Weasley," Snape said absently. He looked deep into Harry's eyes, and Harry met his gaze for a moment before an odd sensation made him wince again and look away.

"But Quirrel already gave us a detention!" Neville protested. "And we'll have to miss the feast."

"Didn't want to go to the feast anyway," Harry grumbled, touching the pocket of his robes were the photo of his mother and Snape was safely tucked in a book. "Just wish I didn't have to spend the evening with garlic turban."

"I do not believe that will do," Snape muttered, looking at the three boys. "No." He shook his head. "You will serve your detentions with me, tonight. I shall discuss the matter with Quirrell."

The three boys blinked, surprised that Snape would intervene on their behalf. "Don't look so happy," Snape sneered. "You shall still miss the feast, and I dare say my detention will be far more strict than whatever Quirrell had cooked up. Clean this mess up and get to your class." With that, Snape strode off in the same direction that Quirrell had taken.

"What is going on today?" Ron wondered aloud. "Seems like everyone is in a mood."

"Meow."

"Oh my sweet, what is this? Food fights in the corridors. Naughty, naughty boys."

Harry closed his eyes and groaned. "Fantastic."

In the end, Flich hadn't believed that Ron, Neville and Harry had already lost points and received a detention from Snape and Quirrell respectively, and they were frog marched to DADA lessons after cleaning the corridor. Snape had already come and gone apparently, because Quirrell eagerly assigned the boys another detention the following night with himself.

"That's it, I'm convinced. Every teacher at this school hates me," Harry grumbled as they made their way to lunch. Snape had been furious in potions, having heard that the boys still had detention with Quirrell from one of the Slytherins. He'd taken eight points from Gryffindor between Harry, Neville, and Ron meaning they'd lost their house nearly ten points in a single morning.

"Well you shouldn't have been having a food fight in the corridor," Hermione sniffed. "I told Ron and Neville to leave you alone."

"Well at least now you really have something to be miserable about," Ron said breezily while sticking his tongue out at Hermione's back.

Harry grinned. "Yeah, well, at least I know who to blame that every teacher can't stand me." He poked Neville and Ron in the backs, and soon a minor scuffle broke out before Hermione broke it up.

She was surprised to see that far from being angry at each other, the three boys were all grinning like idiots. She harrumphed loudly. "Well, I suppose I'll have to smuggle you all something from the feast. I'll do my best to make sure what I get isn't laced with pumpkin, but no promises."

"I like pumpkin," Neville said with a serious expression on his face. "Make sure you only get that, I'll be famished after having to serve detention."

"Oi!" Harry shouted, but then laughed along with Neville. "Whatever you get is fine, Hermione. Thanks."

"Boys," Hermione muttered, shaking her head.

That evening Harry, Ron and Neville trekked down to the dungeons to their detention, taking their sweet time. Harry was starting to feel down on himself again, and Ron and Neville were doing their best to cheer him up.

"You know I bet if you ever grew your hair out you wouldn't look like a half bald otter," Ron told Harry, rubbing at the still short hair.

"It wouldn't be so bad if he didn't smell like a wet otter," Neville said wistfully. "I don't think the muggle soaps he uses really work."

"At least I don't look like a fox with a case of mange whenever I get out of the shower," Harry retorted, dodging out of Ron's reach then giving him a noogie of his own.

"Oi, I'll have you know I'm a Weasley, not a fox!" Ron laughed, tickling Harry's exposed armpit. The two of the fell on each other, tickling and pulling.

"Come on you two, we're going to be really late," Neville said, pulling his friends apart. "Phew! You both smell like a fox!"

Surreptitiously, Ron and Harry both sniffed at themselves. "I don't smell that bad," Harry protested.

"Something really stinks, and it isn't me," Ron said. Both he and Harry looked at Neville. "That was one nasty fart Neville!"

"Nice," Harry said, giving Neville a wink.

Looking perplexed, Neville shook his head. "No, I didn't. But that-" Neville saw the looks of sudden terror on Harry and Ron's faces as they looked down the corridor behind him. "Right, shall we run then?"

"Let's," Harry agreed, and the three boys began pelting down the corridor.

"Urrrrgggghhh!" a deep, angry sounding roar echoed behind the boys.

"Troll!" Ron began shrieking at the top of his lungs. "There's a troll!"

"My bloody gun's in my trunk!" Harry wailed, glancing behind them to see the troll lumbering behind them at an alarming rate.

"Quick, in here!" Neville pointed his wand at the dore. "Alohomora!" The door clicked open, and the three students stumbled in, slamming the door and relocking it behind them.

"Bloody hell," Ron swore. "How did a troll get in here?"

The door suddenly shuddered, dust cascading off it as the timbers creaked and groaned.

Harry looked around the darkened classroom desperately. Dust covered everything, and what little furniture there was had moldy cloth coverings on it. "There's nowhere to hide or run! We're trapped."

"I don't think the troll can get through the door even if it breaks it down," Neville said, taking rapid steps backwards. Ron and Harry quickly followed him, taking cover behind a dusty table. There was a loud bellow and the door buckled inward again. The three boys cowered behind the bed, screaming in terror as the door was blasted off of its hinges and shards of wood peppered their hiding place. The stink of the troll was overpowering now, and a long gray arm felt into the classroom as the troll tried to squeeze its way in.

" _Scourgify!_ " Neville shouted, pointing his wand at the troll's arm.

"What the bloody hell good is that going to do?" Ron demanded. The stink had lessened slightly, and the perplexed troll had withdrawn its arm momentarily as it examined its newly cleaned skin.

"It was all I could think of," Neville admitted. Ron and Harry both shrugged and made noises that suggested that Neville's efforts were better than nothing at least.

Suddenly, the troll let out a deafening bellow, followed by a high pitched shriek and the crash of breaking dinner plates.

"Hermione!" Harry cried, and darted towards the door. Ron and Neville were on his heels, but they were too late.

The troll and bounded down the corridor with surprising swiftness, grabbing Hermione by the leg and lifting her up. It was dangling her towards it's open mouth to take a bite out of the flailing girl.

"Oi, git!" Ron yelled, pointing his wand. " _Scourgify!"_

The trolls rancid teeth suddenly gleamed white as snot and drool vanished along with years of cavities.

" _Scourgify!"_ Harry and Neville both cried, causing the trolls loin cloth to flap as sweat and dust vanished, and the trolls toe nails to chip and shatter as if an enormous nail clipper had gone at them.

In shock, the troll dropped Hermione to the floor, where she managed to flip and land on her rump instead of her head and scoot away from the confused brute.

"Um, now what?" Harry asked as the troll's expression went from confused to angry as it turned towards the three young wizards. With a bellow, it charged again, and the three boys froze in terror.

" _Sectumsempra!"_

 __The troll's head was cleaved clean in twain, showering the hall with brains and gore. Blinking, the four Gryffindor's looked around, trying to figure out what had happened. Into the midst of the disaster strode Snape, his cloak flapping ominously behind him. "Well, well, well. It appears that you did indeed have a reasonable excuse for being late for your detentions boys, though what reason Miss Granger has for being down in the dungeons I simply cannot imagine."

"I...I...I…" Hermione stammered, before laying her head in her hands and beginning to weep.

Ron was at her side in a moment, his face concerned. "You alright? For a moment there, I thought you were dead."

That only increased the volume of Hermione's wailing, and Ron looked at his friends helplessly. They could only shrug, and look to Snape, who was inspecting the troll.

"Do not ask me for advice on the comforting of young Gryffindor females," Snape said, his voice dripping with acid. "I seem to have a rather acerbic effect upon them."

"You have a what?" the three boys asked in unison, confused at the new word.

"Means 'bitter or sour,'" Hermione said, hiccuping and rubbing her eyes.

"Indeed. Your ability to recall even the most inane of facts in the most dire of circumstances continues to amaze me, Granger. Two points to Gryffindor each for keeping your heads during your encounter, figuratively and literally it would seem."

The four students gaped at Snape.

"You're giving us points?" Ron stammered.

Neville gulped. "We're not in trouble?"

"Can you teach us that spell?" Harry asked, looking at the potions master with a new sense of awe.

"What is the troll doing here, and how did it get in?" Hermione said, using Ron to pull herself to her feet.

"Your questions will have to wait. Clearly it is not safe here. Come with me, now," Snape ordered, and the four students quickly fell into line behind Snape, running to keep up with his long legged strides down the corridor.

Halfway to the Great Hall they ran into the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall, who had their wands out and grim expressions on their faces.

"Severus, there is a-" McGonagle began, then stopped with Snape spread his arms wide, displaying the layer of gore on the front of his robes. "Ah. I see that you have found it." McGonagle studied the four equally coated students. "Are you all quite well? Is it dead?"

The four students began talking over one another in a rush, though they managed to communicate stumbling upon the troll, Neville hitting on the idea of using cleaning charms to distract and confuse the troll, and Snape's timely intervention.

"And yet despite all their successes, they seem to have forgotten the true use of cleaning charms," Snape sneered, his dark eyes glittering.

Dumbledore and McGonagall started, realizing that the man was actually making a joke, even if it was one in rather poor taste.

The four students blushed and stammered apologies, then began cleaning Snape's robes with the charm.

"And he even gave us eight points to Gryffindor," Ron whispered to McGonagle. "You better check to make sure he's not actually an imposter or something."

"Off of me!" Snape snapped as most of gore was vanished. "I have business to attend to. I leave your miscreants in your own hands, Minerva. Mcalister, Weasley, Neville, I consider your detentions served. Even the one you were assigned tomorrow. Hopefully next time, you will not require the presence of a monster to learn the better of wreaking havoc in my dungeons!" With that, the potions master strode off in a swirl of robes, the faint odor of trolls brains wafting behind him.

Dumbledore stood for a moment, then looked down at Neville, his eyes twinkling. "Quit the young hero, eh Minerva? An extra ten points to Gryffindor for a most excellent and innovative use of the cleaning charm. I shall have to think of the ramifications! Why, we might even consider incorporating the spell into our Defense Against the Dark Arts curriculum. 'How to keep a trolls and yours nose clean.' Most excellent! Lemon drop, anyone?"

The four students dutifully accepted the lemon drops, grateful for something to get the smell and taste of the troll gore off of them. They waved goodbye to Dumbledore and followed their head off house off to their dormitories.

"He really is mad," Neville said quietly as they walked away.

"A great wizard," Ron agreed.

"But completely mad," Harry finished, sucking on his lemon drop thoughtfully. "I wonder what my parents will have to say about this?"

"You sure that's wise, Harry?" Hermione asked nervously. "What if they were to pull us out of school for being in danger?"

Harry snorted. "Please. Neville beat a troll with a cleaning charm. That would be like Mr. Clean wiping down a Dalek and making it vanish."

"What's a Dalek?" Ron asked.

Neville frowned. "Who's Mr Clean?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged significant looks. "They know so little," Harry said with a sigh.

"Growing up magical must be such a burden," Hermione tittered.

Ahead of them, Professor McGonagall tried to keep her eyes open for danger, though she was longing for the calming draught and headache potions she kept in her chambers. Raising young Gryffindors. If they weren't the death of her, whatever foolish escapade she landed herself in trying to keep them safe would be!

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\\\/\/\/

Snape slammed Quirinius up against the wall, glaring at the stammering DADA professor. "Drop the act, Quirrell. Let the troll in did you? Nasty bite you've got on your leg there. I see you've met 'Fluffy.' Honestly, you should be ashamed of yourself. If that great oaf can handle that dog, you should have no problems with the beast."

"I-I-I d-d-d-don't-"

"Enough!" Snape snarled, pressing his wand point up against the other man's throat. "If I catch you here again, I shall not leave the consequences to that fool of a headmaster! I shall deal with you myself, in my own way." He leaned into Quirrell, dropping his voice to a whisper. "I don't know for certain who you are working for, but I have served master's far darker than you can dream of for longer than you have been off of your bitch of a mother's teat!" Snape stalked away, leaving the whimpering wreck of a man behind him. He stomped off to the headmaster's office, where he snarled "lemon drop!" at the gargoyle, who wisely leapt out of Snape's way. Inside, he paced back and forth, to the consternation of Fawkes the phoenix, until the headmaster arrived.

"Quirrell has a direct link to the Dark Lord," Snape snarled as soon as Dumbledore was through the door. "Look at this!" he showed his exposed sleeve to Dumbledore, upon which the Dark Mark was faintly glowing. "It has not reacted so in years! And, somehow, Potter's scar is connected. When I touched it with my wand, my arm burned, Albus. Burned! As if I had used my wand against the Dark Lord himself!"

Slowly, the headmaster blinked. "Are you quite certain of this, Severus?"

"I caught Quirrell limping out of the third floor corridor. I surprised him enough that he got bitten by the flea bitten cur of Hagrid's! When I touched him tonight, I felt my Mark react. And I've looked into McAlister's mind, headmaster. I have seen how he reacts to Quirrell's presence! The scar of his burns like it was a Dark Mark, like it was somehow imbued with the Dark Lord's essence."

"I have told you not to practice legitimacy upon the students unless they are in immediate danger, Severus," Dumbledore said, pacing over to his desk. "It is a gross violation of their privacy. Why are you peering into young Harry's mind?"

"Because he was IN direct danger!" Snape spat, lying through his teeth. "Or did you not notice that troll the pawn of the Dark Lord let into the corridors tonight!" Snape paused, glaring at the headmaster. "I believe we should capture him and interrogate him. Give me a month, and I will have freshly brewed Veritaserum. We can interrogate him to our heart's content then!"

"That would blow your cover, Severus," Dumbledore said gently.

Snape growled. "Damn my cover! If we can prevent the Dark Lord from gaining power now, then there will be no need to spy on him!"

"Agreed. Which is why the traps are not what they seem," Dumbledore said, taking one of his damned sweets out of the drawer. "I have sent for the Mirror of Erised."

"And what does that fool's bane have to do with anything? The dark lord would never be tricked as to lose himself to that particular beguilement, though Quirinius might."

"I plan to modify it. Gaze into the Mirror for too long, and it will trap one's soul eternally. Such a device could imprison Voldemort, and hold him captive for many years. Long enough for Longbottom or McAlister to grow into a hero capable of defeating him."

"Then you also suspect possession," Snape snarled. "Are you insane? To have the Dark Lord here, in Hogwarts, with direct access to the students? He was always charismatic, that one. He could bend so many to his will right under our noses!"

"Perhaps, if his chosen vessel were not so damaged he could," Dumbledore said mildly. "It is a risk we must run. If we confront Quirinius, we have no means of easily trapping the spirit inside of him, or, if it is only a link, of tracing it back. We must use this situation to our advantage. I regret deeply that the students are at some risk, but I have taken steps to manage it. Voldemort is surely too weak to manage any great mischief. We must do the best we can." He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a notebook, then began writing.

"What are you doing now?" Snape demanded, trying to hold back a sigh of exasperation. He was trapped between a rock and a hard place. On one side the foolish old man, on the other the insane bastard.

"I am making a note to have Quirinius include the scouring charm in his lessons on defeating certain dark beasts," Dumbledore said, looking up with a twinkle in his eyes. "Young Longbottom was most creative in his foiling of that troll, don't you agree?"

"He was lucky, and nothing more," Snape hiss. He leaned onto the desk, attempting to loom over Dumbledore. "McAlister and his little friends could have all died. Then what would have happened to your nascent chosen ones?"

Dumbledore's eyes just twinkled, and he seemed to grow taller, rather ruining Snape's attempt to loom. "In my experience, there is no such thing as luck, young Severus. Fate, it would seem, has conspired to preserve those children. They will be Light's champions, if only we have a chance to train them."

 _He really is as batty as that wretched fool of a lying jedi,_ Snape thought. He blinked. He hadn't thought of those films in...McAlister! The muggles...no, no Snape was not trapped. Not yet.

"Fine. I'll be your little antagonist to them. Though that will be difficult, seeing as I just saved their lives." Snape whirled around and stalked back to the dungeons, his mind mulling over his prospects. He would not serve the Dark Lord again. That way was death and madness, and everything Lily's memory had ever opposed. To serve Dumbledore would be to betray her son to death as he had his lost Lenore. But there was another way. Only, how to take it? There was some way to play this all to Snape's advantage, someway to come out of his not just as a spy, but as a hero covered in glory.


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14: To Catch a Snitch

"But Harry, he tried to KILL you!" Hermione hissed, trying to pull Harry away from the cheering throngs of Gryffindors.

Harry shook his head, then grinned and held the snitch aloft. "We'll talk later, Hermione."

"But this is important!" Hermione pleaded, trying to grab Harry's arm before the rest of their housemates hoisted him aloft.

"Bloody right it is!" Ron shouted, coming next to Hermione.

She smiled at him, grateful that Ron understood the gravity of the situation. "Yes, we have to talk to Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape was trying to jinx-"

"What, no, I was saying this is QUIDDITCH! It's the most important thing Harry will ever do!"

Hermione stared in open mouthed horror as Ron helped the twins lift Harry into the air and carry him back towards the castle. She felt a comforting hand on her shoulder, and turned to look at Neville. The chubby boy shook his head. "It's OK, Hermione. We saved Harry. He's OK, for now."

Hermione sniffed, then nodded. "At least we have our priorities straight."

Neville nodded. "Too right. If we hadn't saved Harry, how would he have caught the snitch?"

"Boys! You moronic, quidditch brained-" Hermione cut herself off. Neville was laughing, bent double and nearly crying at Hermione's reaction.

"You should see your face," Neville gasped, shaking his head as he continued to laugh.

Taken aback, Hermione flushed, then giggled as well. Neville patted her on the back. "Come on. If you think Harry and Ron are mad for quidditch, you haven't seen anything yet."

Determined not to be diverted from her course, Hermione made a beeline for Professor McGonagall once she was inside the castle. As she neared the Gryffindor Tower, she heard a raucous rendition of "Lions Forever" that most of the Gryffindor's seemed to be shouting along to. Trying to push past the crowd of much bigger and older students, Hermione weaved her way towards McGonagall's office, only to stop dead in her tracks. An enormous golden lion with a red mane was leading the chorus of the song, and leaning on it decked out in scarlet robes with an incredibly gaudy golden hat was Professor McGonagall.

 _Roar, Lions roar, roar forever more!_

Suddenly, the Professor sprang atop the lion in a surprising display of nimbleness, and lead the students off continuing to extol the virtues of Gryffindor and it's quidditch team.

"She's the worst of the lot," Neville said quietly next to Hermione.

"The Professor is a quidditch nut too?" Hermione asked, trying to keep the whine out of her voice and mostly failing.

Neville nodded seriously. "My gran was at school at the same time as her. She told me that Minerva McGonagall was and is the most quidditch obsessed witch she's ever seen. Have you noticed the enormous marble pedestal in her office? That's where she keeps the quidditch cup whenever Gryffindor wins it. She's apparently been obsessed with winning it back; Slytherin and Hufflepuff have been trading it back and forth for the last four years. Gran says the Professor wrote her asking if I would make a decent seeker. She was stalking our first year flying class, or didn't you notice? She was just waiting to see if one of us would prove to be the hero she wanted."

"I had no idea," Hermione said faintly.

"She'll be completely useless for a while," Neville said. "Come on. We can worry about it in the morning. McGonnagle would never let anything happen to her new star seeker, and she'll be in the common room celebrating for the next few hours."

The next few hours were indeed devoted to quidditch celebrations, and even Hermione found herself enjoying the party once she loosened up a little. True, it was a far more raucous affair than Hermione typically enjoyed, and there was little in the way of stimulating discourse, but it was fun to sing and dance and eat with her friends.

Finally, the party began winding down. The food was mostly eaten, even the pizza Harry had managed to cajole the house elves into making because, "No one puts bloody pumpkin on pizza." As it turned out, wizards did put pumpkin on pizza, though the elves had thoughtfully included several without for Harry. Hermione went up to the boys dormitory, to the consternation of Dean and Seamus.

"Well if you don't like it, you can leave until I'm gone," Hermione ordered.

"But what if we'd been naked?" Dean argued. "It isn't right."

"Just do what she says mate," Ron advised. "She won't leave it until she's had her say with us."

"He's right ya know," Seamus said in a stage whisper. "Come on mate, let's go see if there's any of that pumpkin pizza left."

"Who eats pumpkin pizza?" Harry said plaintively as the two boys trooped back down to the common room.

Neville's hand strayed to his pocket, where he was keeping two slices for later, looking slightly abashed.

"Harry, focus!" Hermione said, wagging her finger under his nose. "Snape tried to kill you! He was jinxing your broom! He had his eyes locked on you, never blinking! A jinx requires you to maintain eye contact, and that's exactly what he was doing!"

"So does a counter jinx," Ron said casually, tossing the only feebling stirring snitch up and down in his hand. The poor enchanted ball's magic was nearly spent, it had been manhandled by various Gryffindor's all day.

Hermione blinked and looked at Ron in astonishment. "How do you know that?" she demanded.

"It was in your dark arts essay that I helped you revise. Twice." Ron grinned at Hermione and gave her a sly wink. "I told you I was going to learn to hex like you can. And since I've managed to help hex off a full grown troll, I think I've almost managed to catch up with you since you hexed two baby trolls and a snake."

"My grades are still better than yours," Hermione huffed, though she smiled at Ron as she did so. It actually rather pleased her that her academic achievements were rubbing off on Ron and Harry, despite what appeared to be their best efforts to the contrary.

"Don't care about that," Ron answered. "But still, I suppose you're right about Snape. Seems a bit weird though, if he'd wanted Harry out of the match he could have just let the troll bang us up a bit."

"Maybe it was someone else?" Neville offered, surreptitiously chewing on a mouthful of pizza.

"But it stopped when we set fire to Snape's robes!" Hermione said.

"And I tripped over Quirrell," Neville muttered. "He really does stink something awful. Almost as bad as that troll."

Harry shrugged. "Why don't we just ask Snape what happened?"

His three friends looked at him with incredulous expressions on their faces. "What? He's really not that bad. I mean, he's sort of strict in class and he has that whole goth air about him that makes him seem evil, but honestly I'm not as worried about him as Quirrell. Did you see the way he's been limping around the last couple of weeks? Looks like something big bit him."

"Yeah," Ron said slowly, dropping the snitch onto the floor, where it quickly fluttered under the bed to hide. "And he was sneaking around by the third floor corridor. That's how he caught us when we were having our food fight."

"And he makes my head hurt just looking at him," Harry agreed. "Snape doesn't. Maybe Quirrell has some sort of evil aura."

"Are those even real?" Hermione asked, looking at Neville and Ron.

The two boys looked at each other and shrugged. "Maybe Harry's got a sensitive nose?" Neville offered.

"Or an evil detecting one. My mum always said her nose could smell mischief," Ron said.

Harry snorted. "All mums can do that. My mum isn't a witch, but she could always tell when me or Becky were up to something."

"I didn't look at Quirrell," Hermione admitted. "And Neville did trip over him. That would have broken any spell he was using on Harry."

"We really should just talk to Snape, all four of us," Harry said again. "He's helped us out a few times now. And for some reason he seems to think we should stay away from Quirrell. I've noticed he's always hanging about whenever we're near him."

"And he got us out of that detention with Quirrell," Neville agreed.

"Plus he didn't make us serve detention with him after that troll came around," Ron agreed. "Fred and George are still convinced we must have confuded him."

"Well, we do have potions tomorrow. But are you sure you want to confront Snape directly? Wouldn't it be best to talk to Professor McGonagall first?" Hermione looked around at the boys.

"If someone really did try and kill me, I think Snape would be the first person to try to help," Harry said. Reaching under his pillow, he pulled out the picture of Snape and his birth mother, and showed it to his friends. "This is my birth mother. Lily Evans. Snape was her best friend. That's him, in the picture."

The others looked at the picture, shocked to see a young and happy Snape with Harry's much more lively mother. "She was your mum?" Neville asked. Harry glared at him, and Neville held up his hands to hold off the rant. "I mean, she was your mum, right? Not the mum you have now. I understand having conflicting feelings about your parents, Harry. Trust me, I really do. I just mean, if Snape was her friend, do you think he cares for you too?"

"Snape seemed to really miss her," Harry said, his own confused feelings swirling around inside him. "Wasn't fond of my birth father though. Said he was a bully, and Snape was his nemesis or something."

"Alright. If you're sure, Harry. We can ask Snape tomorrow, after class." Hermione studied the picture thoughtfully. "You know, I never really thought about it, but what kind of lives do our teachers have, outside of school? I mean, they live here, right? And none of them seem to have families or kids of their own."

"They're teachers, Hermione," Ron said in an exasperated tone, as if the simple statement explained everything.

"Maybe Snape sees Harry as a sort of surrogate," Hermione mused aloud. She was promptly whacked in the head with a pillow by Ron.

"Oi! You're always the one going on about being sensitive to other people's feelings, Hermione. Get a grip! Snape as a surrogate parent? I'd bloody well kill myself."

"Worse than Gran on a really bad day," Neville agreed with a shudder.

Hermione gave Harry an apologetic look. "Sorry, Harry. Well, goodnight. I suppose I had best let Dean and Seamus back in."

Harry stayed up late that night, trying to write a letter to his parents. The one to Becky had been easy enough, he'd told her about his Quidditch victory and the party along with nearly getting knocked off his broom by the jinx. But what to tell his mum and dad? He still loved them, that went without saying. But discovering all this stuff about his birth parents was confusing and hard. He wanted to love them too, he certainly felt like he should since apparently they had sacrificed themselves to save him or something like that. But how could he express that to his parents? He didn't want them to feel like he didn't care for them, and he felt guilty he didn't love his birth parents more. With a sigh he put down his notebook and pen and stared up at his bed hangings, the exhaustion of the day finally shutting his eyes and sending him off to sleep.

The next day, the four friends approached Snape's desk after class.

"What is it?" Snape snarled, glaring at them from behind a haze of cauldron fumes.

"Sorry for setting you on fire," Hermione blurted. "I thought you were jinxing Harry's broom."

Ron let out a groan, and Neville smacked his face with his palm, looking slightly ill. Harry stepped up beside Hermione. "Please sir, she was trying to save me. She saw I was being jinxed. Neville tripped over Quirrell though, so it was alright."

"Figured that part out did you?" Snape said, giving Hermione then Neville a withering look. "Or was it just an accident? Ten points from Gryffindor, Granger, for not having the sense to think before you acted. And a point to you, Longbottom, for proving that being lucky is sometimes a substitute for being smart."

Hermione flushed and bowed her head, tears filling her eyes. She was lucky to earn Gryffindor much more than ten points in a week these days, with a few teachers becoming slightly exasperated that it was always she who was the first to stick her hand into the air for any questions.

"Sir, I wanted to ask you," Harry said, doing his best to meet Harry's gaze. "Was it Quirrell who was trying to knock me off my broom? And if he was, why?"

Snape sat back in his chair, studying the four children. He flicked his wand suddenly, making the students flinch, but instead the door simply clicked shut, and the air filled with a faint buzzing sound that would drown out any listeners.

"What have you told your little friends about your plan, McAlister?" Snape asked. "I do hope the answer is nothing, but you never know."

Harry felt himself go flush, then drain of all blood. "W-w-what plan, sir?"

"Don't be coy. Don't think I haven't noticed you bandying about your muggle propaganda books to those miscreant relations of Weasley here, or that you've been quietly building a little band of heroes."

If it was possible, Harry paled even further, but he held his tongue.

"What's he talking about, Harry?" Ron asked, looking confused. "Is this about that rubbish about space and stuff? I mean, maybe muggles made it into space, maybe not. Dean told me a lot of people thing it was a big hoax the American muggles put on to have one over on the Russian lot."

"Oh, the Apollo missions were quite real, Mr. Weasley," Snape said in a tone that simply dripped venom. "It is so heartwarming to see it is not only my own house that can use their prejudices as a shield against the truth no matter how manifestly obvious the facts are. How very Slytherin of you. I would award points, but I believe you would feel rather ashamed to contribute to the house cup in the Serpent's favor."

Ron's mouth opened and closed several times, his eyes bulging out of his head.

Neville looked like his world was crumbling down around him as well. "But, but no wizards have ever been to the moon, have they?"

"Of course not," Snape sneered. "It is quite impossible to get to the moon by magical means. Even if you could somehow apparate there, any attempts to use magic to breathe in the vacuum of space would be quite unproductive, as no wizard knows how to harness the more esoteric cosmic magics."

"But you don't deny that muggles have done it?" Hermione asked, looking eager. "Lavender and Pavarti made fun of me for weeks when they saw I'd gotten those books. Nothing I said would convince them, but if you told them-"

"I am only in the business of correcting the ignorance of youths when it comes to the art of potion making," Snape declared, waving a dismissive hand. "And it is a chore I am actually remunerated for. Tackling the prejudices of the entire wizarding world is not a task I would seek to undertake even if I were being paid twice my usual salary." He suddenly fixed Harry with a piercing stare, looking gazes with him. "But back to my original question. No, I see you have not revealed your designs to your companions, McAlister. If you are wise, you will keep it that way until you and they are much older."

Snape turned to the other children, his eyes flashing dangerously. "As to your other question, Professor Quirrell is a Hogwarts professor. He is here at the insistence of the Headmaster, who has faith that he will not only adequately educate you all in defence against dark magics, but that you will come to no active harm at your professor's hand. Surely you do not question the wisdom of the Great Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, do you?" The words at their surface bespoke complete faith in Quirrell and the headmaster, but the way in which Snape had said them caused the words to sound mocking and sarcastic.

"Do...do you trust Quirrell?" Harry asked.

Hermione looked concerned. "Do you trust the headmaster?"

Snape steepled his fingers and rested his long nose atop them. "Excellent questions. I look forward to hearing the answer to them at the end of term. Dismissed." When the four did not turn immediately to go, Snape let out a low growl, and the four students immediately turned on their heels and fled. Snape watched them go, his eyes calculating.

"What was Snape on about?" Ron asked Harry at lunch. The four had grabbed some sandwiches and gone outside to discuss things in private, despite the frigid November air. It had snowed the night before, but now that the sun was out the light dusting was melting and turning to slush. They had managed to find some rocks to sit on that were mostly dry though, and were quietly munching away.

"Hmm?" Harry asked, avoiding Ron's gaze. It had felt like Snape was reading his mind, but that was impossible, wasn't it? Harry hadn't ever heard of magic that would let you read anothers mind.

"Your plan that you're not supposed to tell us about," Ron prompted. "So tell us."

"Ron!" Hermione gasped. "Professor Snape said Harry shouldn't until we are all older!"

"Oh, so you do believe that Harry has secret plans!" Ron cried, pointing an accusing finger at Hermione. "What, has he told you already?"

"No," Hermione admitted, looking at Harry with a concerned look. She bit her lip. "Though I suppose I do think he can trust us. But we trust you, Harry. You'd tell us if were important, wouldn't you?"

"Mmph," Harry grunted through a mouthful of cold sandwich.

"Harry, you're my best mate," Neville said slowly. Ron looked at Neville with a jealous gleam in his eye, and Neville rolled his eyes. "Oh come off it Ron. Harry can have three best mates, or do you not think Hermione doesn't deserve that title too?"

Ron looked at Hermione with a slightly guilty expression on his face, then back at Neville. "Oh, alright. You're one of my best mates too, Neville."

"Right. Anyway, Harry, look. Whatever plans you have, you'd tell us if it were important, right? I mean, we've fought a troll together. That's not really something you can do and not trust the other person with your life after, right?"

"I think of you all as my best friends too," Hermione said, blushing and looking away. "I didn't really have friends before I came to Hogwarts."

"Me neither," Neville admitted.

Ron shrugged. "I had Ginny and Fred and George, but they're family. It's different. I got to choose to be mates you with lot, and I'm glad I did."

All three of them looked at Harry, who swallowed as if he still had sandwich in his mouth, but was really trying to clear the lump in his throat. "I did have mates before this, you know. Aaron, and the other blokes at school." That didn't seem to bother the others, so Harry sighed, rubbing his hand through his still short and stubby hair. "Alright, look. Hermione, you were raised as a norm, right?"

Hermione nodded, not sure where this was going.

"Ron, Neville, you were raised as wizards. Tell me, did muggles ever do anything bad to anyone magical? Ever torture or kill them, just because they had magic?"

"Yes," Neville said at the same time as Ron said, "No."

The two looked at each other. Ron, ever the quick tempered one, ranted, "My dad's in the muggle affairs office at the Ministry. He's never had any mad muggles attack anyone, no matter what the pureblood loony lot says. So I don't know what you're on about, Neville. I didn't think you bought into all that tripe."

"No muggles have hunted wizards in Britain for years and years, yes," Neville said with a patient air. "But what about the Scourers in America, or those witch hunts in South Africa? They burned a magical family alive last year in Tanzania, and they've killed a lot of muggles who they thought had magic. And then there were British witch hunts, a long time ago. Yes, some witches and wizards were powerful enough to keep themselves safe, but a muggle-sorry, norm-born, like Hermione would have been burned at the stake or drowned."

"Oh, yeah," Ron said. He shrugged. "Ok, I guess that stuff happened, but it was years and years ago here, and things are mostly OK with the muggles now. If anything, it's the wizards who cause problems with muggle baiting and stuff."

"Exactly!" Harry said, jumping on opening Ron had offered. "And what about the last war? Voldemort- what?"

"You said his name!" Ron gasped.

Neville just shook slightly, then nodded. "Yes. Voldemort. Go on Harry."

"You said his name!" Ron said, his normally ruddy complexion having gone pale. "And you should know better."

"Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort," Neville said, his face and tone grim. "If my parents were brave enough to stand up to him, I can at least say his name."

Ron whimpered, but didn't say anything else and Harry continued, "Anyway, Voldemort and his follower slaughtered norms by the hundreds and tortured women and children. And according to my dad, some of his followers may be responsible for that sort of thing going on even today!"

"Death Eaters," Neville supplied, nodding. "Yeah. Gran says that the only reason the load of them weren't locked up in Azkaban is because most of them bribed their way out of trouble."

"She's not wrong," Ron said, his voice quavering. He was clearly trying to be as brave as his friends, and to his shock he was actually not doing badly. "V-v-v-v…" he gulped, "Um, Voldemort." Ron quickly glanced around, certain doom would be upon him. When nothing happened, he swelled up slightly with pride and continued, "his followers, anyway, like Lucius Malfoy, they bribed loads of people and lied. Said they'd been cursed. My dad say's that's rubbish, and my mum says, well, she said if I repeated it she'd wash my mouth out with soap every day for a year."

"But it's illegal to torture anyone!" Hermione said, looking horrified. "Even if they had been cursed, surely they'd be punished for killing and torturing people."

"Only if they were wizards," Neville said darkly. "Like my parents. The people who tortured them are in Azkaban."

Ron looked thoughtful. "I thought your parents were dead."

"No, Ron," Neville said. "They're not dead. They were just tortured. For hours and hours. Went mad. I visit them, when I can. They're in Saint Mungo's. But the Death Eaters who just tortured and killed muggles? They could get off with bribes and house arrest. Take Sirius Black for example. If he hadn't killed Pettigrew, had just blown up those muggles, he'd probably just have been given a fine, a pat on the head and told not to do it again."

"Wasn't Sirius Black the one who betrayed-" Ron suddenly cut himself off and looked at Harry.

"What? Harry demanded.

"Um," Ron looked guilty. "He um, he sort of, well, he told He-Who, er, ARG!"

"He betrayed your parents," Neville said quietly. "He was the one who told Voldemort where to find your house. He was the magical guardian. My Gran told me all about it. Said it just went to show that some families can never be redeemed."

"Yeah, the other Blacks were all openly for Vol-Vold-Voldemort!" Ron looked torn between elation and horror that he could now say the name. He took a deep breath. "Yeah. One of them is Draco's mum, believe it or not."

"Draco's mum is related to the guy who had my parents killed?" Harry half bellowed. He stood up, fists clenched. "I'll kill him!"

Hermione pulled Harry back down. "It wasn't him, Harry! Relax. Take a deep breath."

Harry breathed heavily for a moment, then nodded. "Right. So, are we all agreed that because the wizarding world is so secret, and so dead set on 'muggles,'" Harry snarled the hated word, "being inferior that won't even punish you for torturing and killing norms that something has to be done?"

"But it all seems so wonderful," Hermione whimpered. "I was never accepted before I came to Hogwarts. Everyone hated me because I was too smart, or too bossy, or too weird. I did odd things, you know. Like making the girls who made fun of me at lunch grow nasty pimples all over their faces. I felt really bad once I realized that had been me, but it was an accident, honest!"

"What do you mean, something has to be done, Harry?" Ron asked. Neville was silent, but he was studying Harry's face with a concerned expression.

"I mean, we can't let the only thing wizards ever do with norms is wipe their memories or torture them or hide from them!" Harry said. He looked around, ensuring that they were alone. He lowered his voice. "I mean, that they need help. Our help. That what the world really needs is more heroes, not more people who hide their powers."

"'With Great Power comes Great Responsibility,'" Hermione quoted. She flushed when Harry gaped at her. "I read comic books too, you know. I read just about everything in our small local library. Spiderman wasn't my favorite, but I did read it."

"What was your favorite?" Harry asked, curious enough to be sidetracked from his topic.

"Maus, by Art Spiegelman. It was about the holocaust."

Harry made an "O" with his mouth, and looked somewhat embarrassed. He'd never heard of such a comic book.

"What's a holocaust?" Neville asked.

"You know, Hitler?" Harry said, putting his finger on his lip in an imitation mustache "World War 2? The blitz? Any of that ring a bell?"

When all he got back was a blank look, Harry sighed. "And that's another problem. If norms don't know anything about the wizarding world, it's not their fault. Any that do find stuff out get their memories erased if the ministry finds out. If wizards don't know anything about the norm world, it's their own fault. We have to teach people, and help people. We have power. Maybe not yet, but when we're older, we could be heroes."

"Harry, you're not talking about violating the statute of secrecy?" Neville said, his face going pale. "If muggles knew about us, sorry, Harry, but that's what they are! If they knew, they'd fear us. Bully us. Try and control us, just like they did in the old days. Magic has to be secret for a reason."

"My parents were never afraid of me," Harry said quietly. "Not my sister either."

Hermione nodded. "My parents were afraid for me. They were so pleased to hear I was special and that I had magic, but they were worried I would be all alone in a magical world and they'd never be able to understand it or protect me. If I could tell them more, if I could only show them, I think they'd be thrilled."

"My dad says most muggles are only scared of magic because it's been used to hurt them," Ron mused.

Neville looked between his three friends, his face pale. "But those witch hunts are real! They happen even today. We're only safe because the muggles don't know about us! If they did, they'd come after us and try and destroy us or enslave us!"

"They know," Harry said quietly. Ron and Neville's eyes snapped up and widened in shock. "They've known since the last wizarding war."

"T-t-t-that's impossible!" Neville stammered. "If, if they knew, the ministry would send in the obliviators, they'd stop them from knowing!"

"I dunno mate," Ron said, looking thoughtful. "My dad says the obliviators are one of the most overworked departments in the ministry. A few could have slipped through."

"They've known because so many people died that the ministry could never obliviate the memory of all of them," Harry said, his voice growing bitter and angry. "My uncle was killed. He was defenseless, my dad couldn't even have tried to save him, because officially no one knew anything, and if they tried to act they'd be stopped by the Ministry."

"How could your dad stop a wizard?" Neville demanded.

Harry glanced around, then opened up his robe and showed Neville the hidden shoulder holster. "With this."

"Harry!" Hermione gasped. "Those are illegal! Especially since you're a minor!"

"I have a special dispensation," Harry said, closing his robes quickly. "It's OK, I know how to use it and I'm under strict orders to never even take it out unless someone's life is in danger. I didn't have it on me when the troll attacked, and you were nearly killed Hermione. Next time, I'll have it, and we won't have to hope that Snape shows up to save us." What Harry didn't consider was that his pistol's small caliber rounds couldn't hope to even phase a troll, but that was a hard lesson he'd learn at a later point.

"Is that one of those gun things?" Ron asked, curious. "Those are like muggle wands, right?"

"Kind of," Harry said. "They're only good for fighting though, you can't do anything else with them. Dead useful at the whole stopping people from trying to kill you or your mates thing though."

"Harry, this is serious. If the muggles really know about us, we have to tell someone, now!" Neville was panicking, and breathing hard, his pupils dilated. "We're all in danger, my mum, my dad, they can't protect themselves anymore! And Gran is old! Merlin, oh Merlin if the muggles come-"

"They'll stop anyone from ever torturing you or your parents or even your gran ever again," Harry said firmly.

Neville froze, his eyes focusing again, and he looked at Harry. "What?"

"Neville, were your parents tortured because no one could stop the people doing it?"

"Yeah. The aurors tried, but it took them hours to break down the wards and fight off the Death Eaters. By then, it was too late."

"My dad, my real dad, the one who raised me, could have stopped them," Harry said, his eyes blazing with conviction. "He's a soldier, a major in the SAS."

Neville looked doubtful, but Hermione interjected, "He's right Neville. The SAS are literally the best soldiers in the whole world. If anyone could stop the Death Eaters, it would be them."

"But they don't have magic," Neville whispered. "How could they hope to fight off the Death Eaters?"

"'He who dares wins,'" Harry quoted. "They've got guns, and helicopters, and jets, and tanks, and they're getting ready. If another wizarding war breaks out, the SAS and the rest of the muggles will have to intervene. They can't allow another mass slaughter of innocents, norms or wizards."

"Or witches," Hermione said primly.

"Or witches," Harry agreed. "Neville, if they had known, maybe they could have saved your parents."

Neville suddenly stood, his eyes shining. "I've got to go." He stumbled off towards the lake, his body trembling.

Ron put a restraining hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'll go talk with him," Ron said. "Maybe throw an apple at his head or something."

Ron caught up with Neville at the edge of the lake, but seeing as he was fresh out of apples, Ron picked up a smooth rock and chucked out across the lake, where it skipped twice. He bent over and grabbed a few more rocks, handing some to Neville. "Weird, isn't it."

Neville nodded numbly.

"I mean, muggles knowing more than us? And going into space and stuff like that? Doesn't seem right." Aiming carefully, Ron hurled his rock. He nodded in satisfaction when this one managed four skips.

Neville half heartedly tossed his own rock, which didn't skip, but sank straight down. "I didn't believe Harry and Hermione about that for a long time."

Ron nodded, skipping another stone. "Yeah. Seems weird. But Fred and George are convinced that they could do it. Did you know they tried to borrow Scabbers so they could send him up in a makeshift rocket they made? Good thing I caught them. Stupid thing blew up and fell into the forbidden forest. They got a detention for trying to go get it."

"I heard about that," Neville said, a faint grin forming on his lips. "They were madder that their rocket failed than about the detention."

Ron stood quietly for a while, skipping rocks with Neville and making appreciative noises when Neville managed five skips.

"Do you think Harry's right?" Neville finally said, looking at the last rock in his hand carefully.

Ron shrugged. "Dunno. But I trust him. And his dad...well, I met the bloke. And he just seemed...dangerous. Not like he would hurt me, or that I wasn't safe or with him or whatever, but like, if he was in a cage with a bear or something, it was hard luck on the bear, not him. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah," Neville said, throwing his rock at the lake. "Yeah. I think I do."

Neville and Ron walked back to Harry and Hermione, who were waiting anxiously by the castle entrance. Hermione looked nervous that they would be late for DADA, but Harry waited stoically, watching Neville with a measuring expression.

"So," Neville said, trying to act casually. "Where do we sign up to be one of those heroes?"

 _Authors Note:_

 _For maximum effect, play the Overwatch theme at the end of the chapter._

 _And since so many of you asked: Yes, Harry Potter's magic has been nerfed. The reasons for this are twofold. First, I do not want an overpowered Harry running rampant. Harry is going to end up with all sorts of useful and powerful skills he never had in canon, I don't want those to be on top of him being a very strong wizard. I would have to boost Voldemort's abilities in turn to keep things even, and that would have a lot of far reaching consequences. Secondly, I want it to be clear that it was norms and mundane means that defeated the Dark Lord. Yes, it will still be Harry who banishes Voldemort for all time. However, I don't want the Deathly Plot-devices or a similar magical power coming out of nowhere to be responsible for this. Guns, explosions, cunning, electronic communication, and other such methods will be used by Harry to crush the dark lord. Not his ancient magics._


	16. Chapter 15

_Chapter 15: Heroes' First Test_

 _Dear Dad,_

 _I found the heroes we've ben looking for. I don't know exactly what we'll do, but the next time something Bad happens you and your mates won't be standing alone._

 _Love, your Son, Harry_

 _PS. I found out about my birth parents. I still love you the most, but I think I love them to. I hope that's OK with you and mum._

"So as you can see, ma'am, it appears that my son has made major inroads with the wizarding world. It would appear that a lot of young wizards, especially those who lost loved ones in the past war or who were raised in our culture are very receptive to such a message."

Major McAlister stood at attention in his full dress uniform, trying not to sweat. He was immensely proud of Harry, but the lad had moved ahead very quickly, despite words of caution he'd tried to impart. He was simply worried now. Could Harry and his friends keep something this momentous a secret? Would Harry trust the wrong person and blow the whole operation? If he did, what then? They could afford a few people being obviated, they had plenty of redundancy and plans in case of such a situation, but could they allow that, or would they have to move into open conflict with the maggies? And if they did go into combat, what about Harry? Would he be safe? Would he be sacrificed? Tom could never allow that, not in a million years. Sacrifice his own life, sure. Sacrifice the lives of his men, yes, under great pain, but if the situation called for it, that was what they took the queen's shilling for. But to sacrifice his own son? Unthinkable.

"Very good, Major. I am sure the Prime Minister will be quite pleased. At ease man, at ease." Margaret Thatcher gave Tom a small smile. Officially, she was retired from government work. Unofficially, she was now head of the Committee of Magical Affairs. Or the Maggie Works, as the men called it, both as a reference to their leader, and to their purpose.

Thatcher indicated a chair for Tom to sit in, and pressed her intercom. "Tea, if you would please, Bert. For myself and the major."

"Of course ma'am."

That done, Thatcher gave Tom a concerned look. "And how is your son, really? Don't answer as Major McAlister, but as Tom, the father of a young boy."

Tom puffed out his cheeks. "He seems well. There's been some trouble, as you know, that thing with the troll, and apparently someone tried to hex him off his broom in a school match. He's taken to keeping his weapon on his person at all times. A bit worrying, but still, he's a good lad, and smart. He assures me that incidents like this are bound to happen at a magical school and that he's quite safe."

"What does Alice thing about that?" Thatcher asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She's torn over being so proud she's fit to burst and so worried for him she wants to call the whole thing off and bring him home yesterday."

"I understand. Sometimes it is hard to think about this particular operation in an objective manner. I am a mother as well, after all. It's hard not to see Mark's face when I read the reports on your son."

They sat in silence as the tea arrived, sipping quietly, contemplating the perils of youth.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Can't believe my parents are going to be in bloody Romania for Christmas," Ron groused, poking at his dinner. "You lot are all going home and I'm going to be stuck here with the twins and Percy the Ponce."

"Percy isn't that bad," Hermione argued. "He's been very helpful as a Prefect."

"Yeah, well, you don't have to live with him," Ron muttered.

"Hey, Ron, what if you and your brothers came over to my place for Christmas?" Harry asked, the kernel of an idea forming in his mind.

"You mean it?" Ron asked, looking suddenly hopeful.

"Yeah, Ginny could come too if your parents didn't mind so Becky had another girl around the house," Harry added. "I'd have to ask my parents of course, but I'm sure they'd allow it." Actually, he was pretty sure they'd insist and consider it a great stroke of luck.

"Yeah, I'll ask my mum and dad too! Oi, Perse, can I borrow Hermes?"

Percy looked up from his own group of friends, frowning at Ron. "What do you need my owl for?"

"Harry says we could go to his place for Christmas! I've got to owl mum and dad to ask them."

"Go to ickle Harrykin's for Christmas?" George asked.

"Sounds more interesting than staying here," Fred said.

Percy shrugged and nodded. "Alright, you can use Hermes. Let mum and dad know the rest of us are on board with the idea as well. I need to do some extra research for my muggle studies OWL anyway."

The next day letters arrived from both sets of parents giving their blessing. Ginny would be coming as well, having opted to see the brothers she was closest with over the much older Charlie.

Snow came to the castle, and on the last day of term there was a "Weasley's VS Team Harrykins" snowball fight, in which even Percy participated. Harry dragged in Dean and Seamus on his side, so that it was he, Hermione, Neville, and the other two boys against the four Weasleys. Despite a valiant effort on Team Harrykins part, they were simply no match for Fred and George, who had managed to conjure up a massive snow fort from which Percy and Ron were firing an ice cannon that was devastating anyone who poked their head up.

"We need reinforcements!" Harry yelled as an icy cannon ball obliterated the meager snow fort he and Neville had managed to construct. Hermione had tried to charm it stronger, but it was no match for the Weasley's bombardment. He poked his head up to throw a snowball back, but was rewarded with a face full of slush as soon as he poked his head up.

"We should just surrender," Hermione said, shivering slightly in the cold .

"The Irish never surrender!" Seamus bellowed, managing to hit Fred with a snowball before he was beaten back under a deluge of icy missiles.

"But we're not Irish!" Hermione said, dragging Seamus back to safety.

"Speak for yourself!" Neville yelled as he began digging in the snow to form a new barricade and switching to an Irish lilt. "Me mum's maiden name was Murphy!"

"I knew there was a reason I loved you Neville!" Seamus sputtered, wiping the snow off his face.

"We've still got to find a way to take out that fort," Dean muttered, peering over a snowbank. He suddenly dived down. "Quirrell's coming!"

"Damn," Harry muttered, peeking up at the professor waddling across the courtyard in a ridiculously oversized coat. He suddenly snapped his fingers, though the effect was rather ruined by his mittens. "I've got an idea. Seamus, Neville, Hermione, cover me. With me Dean!"

"What are you-" Hermione began to protest, but a snowball impacted the back of her head. She quickly turned back and started using her wand to fling a stream of snow at the fort, acting as a sort of smoke screen as Harry and Dean dashed towards Professor Quirrell.

"Afternoon Professor!" Harry called, sliding around behind the DADA teacher.

"Hello sir!" Dean said cheerfully as he scrambled right behind Harry.

Quirrell spun around, glaring at the two boys and saying something that was muffled by his purple scarf. Harry and Dean paused, staring at Quirrell as a snow-cannonball hurled out of the spray of snow and smacked dead into the back of Quirrell's turban, sending the man sprawling.

With an unearthly shriek, Quirrell suddenly stood and pointed his wand at the now visible snowfort. The outer walls exploded, sending all four of the Weasley's tumbling through the air.

"Victory!" Dean cheered, pumping his fist.

Harry couldn't respond. As soon as Quirrell had turned his back, his scar had exploded with pain, and he was crouching in the snow, whimpering. A hand grabbed him and lifted him into the air, and Harry found himself staring into Quirrell's eyes, which seemed to burn with anger and madness. Harry couldn't focus, his scar seemed to be sucking everything else into a tiny white dot as his whole world became pain.

"You!" A raspy voice hissed from behind Quirrell's scarf. "How dare you-"

And then Harry was falling and Quirrell was sputtering down in the snow.

"Tsk, tsk, Quirinius. Playing foolish boyhood games in the snow? One would think you were a nervous student instead of a dignified professor."

To all of the Gryffindor's students utter astonishment, there stood Professor Snape, great black robe billowing in the breeze as he casually tossed a snowball up and down in his hand. One of his creations was already plastered all over Quirrell's right leg, where it had bowled him right over.

"T-t-t-t-they asssssaulted m-m-m-me!" Quirrell protested, then he saw the snowball Snape was playing with. "You?!" the nasty voice hissed, then, "Y-y-y-you h-h-h-hit me, S-s-s-s-"

"Quite an accident, I assure you," Snape said smoothly. "I was aiming for McAlister. You appear injured, Quirinius. Limp along to Poppy, I'm sure she can give you something."

No one moved as Quirrell scrambled to his feet and hobbled off. Harry laid where he had fallen, the other students too stunned and afraid to get closer to the dreaded potions professor. Once Quirrell had vanished, Snape snarled and stomped over to Harry, who he quickly hoisted out of the snow. "Idiot boy! Foolish child! What were you thinking?!"

Harry's eyes were unfocused, he could barely see. His whole world still ached. "Sorry, I don't want any more," Harry mumbled, then fainted.

"Damn!" Snape snarled. He turned back to the rest of the Gryffindors, who had crowded close as soon as his back was turned. "You, Weasley!"

"Yes sir?" Four voices chorused.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Responsible Weasley."

"Rules us out that does," one of the twins muttered.

"Yes sir?" Percy stepped forward. Snape thrust Harry into his arms. "Carry him and follow me. You, Granger. You are slightly less addled than the rest of these miscreants. Take the twin terrors with you and find McGonagall and bring her to the potions lab. The rest of you go to your dormitories and do not leave until you are given permission to do so! Do I make myself clear?"

There was a chorus of assent, and Snape stomped off, Percy carrying the still unconscious Harry in his arms.

"Where are we going, Professor?" Percy asked, noticing that they were not headed in the direction of the hospital wing.

"To my laboratory," Snape snarled. "Ask no further questions!"

Percy lay Harry down on a table Snape and swept clear of various essay's he had been in the process of grading. He stood quietly as Snape bustled about, grabbing various vials and bringing them over to Harry. Percy recognized most of them as various restorative medicines, and was surprised that Snape was reaching so deeply into what was obviously his personal supply of potions and ingredients. Snape poured various doses down Harry's throat. He coughed and sputtered, until Snape poured a new potion into Harry's mouth, and the boy fell fast asleep. Sighing, Snape brushed himself off, then glared at Percy.

Wilting under Snape's glare, Percy shrunk into himself. "No excuses sir," he mumbled before Snape could lay into him. "I should have controlled my brothers better. We had no business aiming our cannon where we couldn't see what was happening clearly."

"At least you have the intelligence to recognize an error after you have committed it," Snape said, still glaring at Percy. "Perhaps in future, ten points from Gryffindor will help to remind you to think before you take an action that would lead to such misguided course."

Swallowing hard, Percy bowed his head and did not protest. He had not lost Gryffindor any points for three years, and never so many at one time. He was silent until the door banged open and McGonagall strode in, face drawn with worry.

She gasped when she saw Harry lying still on the table. "Is he-"

"Sleeping," Snape said, glancing down at the still form. "Dreamless sleep. I gave him enough potions that he is in no danger. I suggest you escort him and Responsible Weasley back to your tower. I must speak with the Headmaster."

"Where is Quirinius?" McGonagall demanded, coming to stand protectively at Harry's side.

"Hospital wing." Snape turned around, obviously done with the conversation.

"Severus!" McGonagall snapped, and Snape paused, turning back to glare at her. "Is it true that you hit that...professor...with a snowball?"

Snape's right eyelid twitched slightly. "Do you have any relevant questions, or are you simply wasting my time?"

McGonnagle studied Snape's face for a moment, then she gave him a warm smile and gestured for Percy to pick Harry up again. Together the prefect and professor left the dungeon, and Snape strode to his bookshelf and activated the secret passage that would lead him to the Headmaster's office.

"He is possessed, Albus. We must expel him. At once. He nearly killed McAlister and the Weasley boys. When he did, I felt the power of the Dark Lord emanating from him. Whatever shreds of Quirinius were once there to exert some control over the madman are rapidly fading."

Dumbledore's eyes were not twinkling. He looked grim, and power radiated from him. He did not speak, merely looked at Snape before the potions master added, "and there is some connection between the Dark Lord and McAlister. Specifically in the scar. That connection nearly killed the boy when the Dark Lord's anger was unleashed. It is too dangerous, Albus. I had to intervene directly this time, and if I do so again he may lash out against myself and the students."

"I-" Dumbledore began, but was interrupted when the door banged open.

"If you do not come with me right now to help expel whatever vile creature now inhabits that thing we call Quirinius, I will do it myself and burn every sweet in the castle before I give you my resignation!"

Snape strode toward Minerva, who snarled and brandished her wand at him. "Let's go," he said, coming to a stop before her. "You would be a fool to try this alone."

McGonagall was taken aback for a moment, but then she peered around Snape at the headmaster, who had withdrawn his own wand as was striding towards the two professors. "Are you going to stop us or help us, Albus?" she demanded.

"I believe the time for direct action has indeed come," Dumbledore declared. He tapped a portrait on the wall. "Lockdown. Quietly have the ghosts and portraits get all students to safety, to their dormitories or into a classroom as far from the hospital wing as possible. Have Poppy sedate Quirrell if possible. Have the other teachers protect the other students as best they can, but send Filius to meet us. We'll need his skill."

"I am glad you have finally seen sense," Minerva huffed, then had to be silent as she strove to keep up with Dumbledore's long strides.

Snape was quiet, thinking things over. Could he afford to confront the Dark Lord directly, now? If he did, he would make himself rather disposable in the eyes of Dumbledore, for what good was a spy who could not spy? At the same time however, now was the time to act. If the Dark Lord did not rise again, or could be delayed, then there would be time to play for alternatives. They could not fail, not now.

Before they were halfway to the hospital wing, an explosion rocked the corridors. "Bring up the wards!" Dumbledore bellowed, raising his wand. He charged forward. "Forget everything else, protect the students!"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Neville knew they probably should have gone straight back to their dorms like Professor Quirrell had said, but everyone had been cold and tired after their exhausting ordeal, so when Dean had suggested they go to the kitchens to get some hot cocoa, it had seemed like a good idea. The house elves had been happy enough to supply them with steaming mugs and even some biscuits, and once they'd polished that off Ron, Neville, Dean and Seamus began the long walk back up to Gryffindor Tower.

"Think Harry will be alright?" Dean asked, looking concerned. "He just collapsed, and then Quirrell grabbed him. I don't know what happened."

Ron frowned. "Harry's always going on about how he gets headaches around Quirrell, and he does seem to have it in for Harry. I dunno, Snape seemed pretty upset."

"He'll be fine," Neville said, trying to reassure himself just as much as the others. "Percy and Snape will look after him."

"I think Snape's trying to poison Harry," Seamus said darkly.

"Then why did he bring Percy along?" Ron said in exasperation. "He's a Prefect. It's not like he'll let Snape hurt Harry."

Before they could continue their argument, Nearly Headless Nick floated up from the floor in front of them. "Quickly, you must get back to the Tower at once! The headmaster has ordered a lockdown."

"What?" the four boys said, then glanced at each other. "Harry!"

"No time, we've got to get back ourselves," Dean declared. Ron looked torn, but he nodded and followed the others up the corridor as fast as they could as Nick ushered them along.

Before they were halfway there, an explosion from the direction of the hospital wing knocked the three boys flat. Neville shrieked in panic, then quickly stood and helped the others to their feet. "Run!"

Breaking into a dead sprint, the four boys raced up the stairs. Neville puffed and wheezed at the back, he was the heaviest, and the most out of shape.

"POTTER!" Shrieked a high unearthly voice behind them. "POTTER!"

"Who-?" Dean began, but Neville just waved him on.

"Don't stop!"

Before the boys could get much further, a purple robed figure shot through the air to land on the top of the staircase they were ascending. It was Quirrell, but he was facing away from them. The other three boys stumbled back down the stairs, and Neville fumbled for his wand. He froze when he saw the thing on the back of Quirrell's uncovered head. It's eyes glowed red, and its face was a hideous mass of flesh. With a flick of his wand, the Quirrell-beast banished Nick.

"Where is Potter?" the thing on the back of Quirrell's hissed. "Where is the boy who lived? If I cannot have the stone, I will have my revenge!"

 _He means Harry!_ Neville realized, and drew his wand. " _Furnunculus!"_

Sneering, the thing on the back of Quirrell's head let the jinx slash into him harmlessly. " _Crucio!"_

Neville was on the floor, his whole body aflame with mindless, agonising pain. He screamed, but there was no air in his lungs, and instead he vomited all over himself. The pain suddenly faded, and Neville found himself lifted into the air, wand dangling limply in his hand.

"Foolish child! Where is Harry Potter!"

"McAlister," Neville slurred, his eyes unfocused. "Name's McAlister."

" _Stigmatis_!"

Neville shrieked in pain as his left hand was pressed with burning magic, and his wand clattered to the floor. There was a snap as the creature stepped forward and crushed it under his heel.

" _Where. Is. He."_

"Fuck you," Neville snarled, and snapped his leg up between the monster's legs.

A wheezing laugh escaped the face at the same time a faint whimper came from the other side of his head. "Foolish boy. Die."

Neville felt himself lift into the air, then begin to fall as the thing tossed him casually over the side.

" _Mum, dad. I tried,"_ Neville thought as the floor raced up to meet him.

" _Wingardium Leviosa!"_

Neville's decent was halted 10 feet from the ground. He looked up to see Ron's panic stricken face peering over the banister above him, his wand pointed at Neville. Suddenly Ron was jerked back, and Neville smashed into the floor, the breath driven out of him as his back broke. Blackness enveloped him.

"Where. Is. Potter. Do not lie to me!" Shrieked the demon in front of Ron.

He whimpered, and felt a trickle down his leg. He had wet himself. He swallowed and crossed his arms. "Get stuffed!"

" _Crucio!"_

Agony tore into Ron for what seemed an eternity as he writhed on the ground.

"Where is Potter!" the thing demanded of the cowering Dean and Seamus.

"Snape, Snape has him!" Dean wept. "Please, just-"

" _Avada Kedavra!"_

The pain faded in a flash of green light. Ron rolled over and tried to sit up. He saw the still forms of Dean and Seamus, their empty eyes wide with terror. "No…"

The thing strode towards Ron, walking strangely as it moved the legs backwards to go forwards. The wand was raised again, and green light swirled around it.

" _Avada Kedavra!"_

Ron closed his eyes, expecting only death, but was suddenly hurled backwards as a brick wall rose between him and the deadly spell. He hit his head hard against the far wall, and he too passed into unconsciousness.

A golden glow filled the hall as Dumbledore strode into battle. Flames danced upon his brow as Fawks encircled him, singing out a vicious song of war. He had eyes only for the two dead students, two students dead because of his blindness, of his folly. He waved his wand and golden flames raced towards the empty shell that Tom Riddle now inhabited.

"You!" the thing wailed, and it waved its own wand, banishing the flames in a wave of darkness.

" _Avada Kedavra!_ " Green light raced out and enveloped its target, which slumped to the ground, dead.

Dumbledore paused, and looked and Minerva McGonagall in shock. Faint green tendrils still leaked from her wand, but it was head steady as a bridge arose from beneath them to carry her towards her target. She raised her hand and a silver sphere coalesced from the very air as she transfigured a crystal prison from the very elements. Snape was beside her, muttering a ritual as dark smoke rose from the body that was being consumed by shadow.

"Severus...it is I, your master. Take me, and we shall destroy this school and these fools and seize the stone for ourselves," a dark voice whispered.

Snape did not reply, only stretching his hand out to pluck the sphere from Minerva's hand. " _Spiritus praevaricator!_ "

"Treachery!" the thing snarled as it was sucked towards the sphere. "No, I cannot be contained, fools!"

The smoke flowed into the sphere, which darkened in Snape's hands. He flinched and cursed, grabbing at his left upper arm. The blacked sphere dropped, and despite the golden glow that Dumbledore conjured around it, the sphere shattered and the smoke escaped, flowing into the bodies of the two boys.

"No!" McGonagall shrieked, and with a sweep of her wand fire enveloped the corpses.

With a howl, the spirit fled. Dumbledore sent a golden strands after it to form a shining cage, but the smoke simply flowed out of the wires and away, unable to be stopped by the castles wards as it vanished.

Dumbledore gave chase after the smoke, pursuing it until it reached the forbidden forest and vanished amidst the shadows there. He stood in the white snow, his breath fogging before him as he shook with grief and rage. How could this happen? He had been so sure, so certain he could trap Voldemort, at least for a few years. But it had come to naught. With a start, he strode back towards the castle. Hagrid was at the doors, crossbow in hand.

"Headmaster, sir, wha happened? Everythings in an uproar an'-"

"Voldemort was here, Hagrid," Dumbledore said tiredly. "Two students are dead. I must summon the Minister of Magic. Keep watch, Hagrid. Let nothing past."

Hagrid nodded, his eyes turning to the forest as his face when dark, anger making his hands tremble slightly. "Nothin' 'll get pas' me, Headmaster. Don't you worry."

Dumbledore saw to it that Longbottom and the young Weasley were safe and in no immediate danger. One had a fractured skull, the other a broken back. Both had severe nerve damage from the Cruciatus curse. Their families were already on their ways, but the school was still in lockdown. Dumbledore went to his office and summoned the Minister of Magic, along with the Aurors. He specified that he wanted Moody and Shacklebolt, and no one else to accompany them. He waited by his fireplace, which turned green as it spat out Alastor and Kingsley, then a third figure, that of a young girl.

"I said-" Dumbledore began, but Moody's growl silenced him.

"Tonks goes where I go, Albus. She's good, and she's trustworthy. I vouch for her personally."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at the young woman, who was sporting spiky pink hair and sunglasses, despite the late hour. "Wotcher, headmaster."

"Nymphadora," Dumbledore said, nodding at her. "Very well. Where is Cornelius?"

"It's Tonks," the young woman muttered, but the older men ignored her.

"He'll be along as soon as I give the word," Moody said, his magical eye spinning. "Albus, what's happened? Why did you summon us?"

"There has been an attack. Two students and Madam Pomfrey are dead," Dumbledore stated.

Moody was silent for a moment as his eye spun. "Voldemort."

It wasn't really a question, but Dumbledore nodded anyway. "I fear that is so. He has returned."

"Bloody hell," Tonks gasped, her hair going white for a moment before flashing back to pink.

Moody nodded. "Right. He's gone then? Shacklebolt, get Fudge. Tonks, with me. We've got a crime scene to secure before it get's too mucked up."

As the fire flashed green and Shacklebolt stepped away, Dumbledore sighed and rubbed his forehead. All his plans had come crashing down, save one.

Neville Longbottom had been marked as the Dark Lord's equal: a butterfly shaped scar was now upon his wand hand. Dumbledore rather thought it resembled the run dagaz. The symbol of the one who brought hope.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\\\/\/

 _Authors Note:_

 _It is at this point that we abandon the stations of the canon for parts unknown. Don't expect things to follow the orderly pace you remember, though certain events will still need to happen, abet on a different timetable than before._


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16: Aftershocks**

 **New Boy-Who-Lived? Longbottom Heir Defies Dark Lord!**

 **By Saffron Scrivener**

 **In a shocking turn of events, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has arisen again! Despite claims by the Ministry of Magic of a lone Death Eater acting alone, the Daily Prophet has it on good authority that the Dark Lord himself perpetrated an attack upon Hogwarts that left two students dead and two others severely injured.**

" **There can be no doubt about it, the Dark Lord has returned," says Severus Snape, known Death Eater collaborator. To testify to his claims, he revealed his Dark Mark for all to see that it had darkened to herald the Dark Lord's return. Snape seemed smug at this turn of events, will he be the next source of treachery at Hogwarts? (** _ **for more, please see Hogwarts Exposed, A School of Horrors by Rita Skeeter, pg. 8)**_

" **If it were not for the brave actions of Mr. Neville Longbottom and his friend, Ronald Weasley, [You-Know-Who] could have caused much more devastation," Headmaster Albus Dumbledore told this intrepid reporter. "Longbottom personally assaulted [We're-not-printing-it-lay-off-me] and tried to save the lives of his friends. While we mourn the loss of Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, we should celebrate the fact that no further loss of life occurred to herald the Dark Lord's return."**

 **Truly, Neville Longbottom deserves the title of "Boy-Who-Lived," having been marked by the Dark Lord himself when he attempted to kill Neville personally. He failed, and the wizarding world has a new champion.**

 **The Heroic Weasley Family: A history of Courage**

 **By Noser Brown**

 **The Weasley family is famous for two things; Red Hair, and reckless bravery. Last night at Hogwarts, the youngest Weasley son proved his courage and that he was destined to stand beside the champions of the light. When directly confronted by the Dark Lord himself, Ronald Weasley thought fast and saved the life of the new Boy-Who-Lived with a timely levitation spell, preventing a lethal fall. When You-Know-Who confronted Ronald personally about the location of a classmate, Ronald spat defiance into the face of death itself. He was saved by Minerva McGonagall, who struck down the dark lord with a terrible curse. Though he was unable to prevent the tragic deaths of his fellow classmates, Ronald is still one of the few wizards who can claim to have stood toe to toe with You-Know-Who.**

 **Pictured here is Ron, along with his brothers and family, along with his treasured pet, Scabbers the Rat, who was a source of comfort to the boy while he convalesces.**

 **A Castle In Mourning**

 **By Isaac Charles Graves**

 **The castle of Hogwarts is draped in black today to honor the passing of two students, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, along with the hospital wing Matron, Poppy Pomfrey. No bodies could be displayed, with pictures of the fallen instead placed near the entrance for those who wished to pay their respects.**

" **Dean was a good friend," Lavender Brown told the Prophet. "He was always kind and funny. I'll miss him a lot." The young girl was in tears as she laid flowers at each of the shrines.**

" **I can't believe he's gone," Cedric Diggory told the prophet. "Seamus, he was a family friend. His dad and mine used to go fishing together. I always hoped he'd be in Hufflepuff with me, but I knew he belonged in Gryffindor. He was a true hero."**

" **She was kind," Hermione Granger told the prophet. "Always willing to help. I, um, I started having some female problems. And away from home, without my mum...she was with me every step of the way. Really understood. I felt like I could always talk to her. To think she's gone...I can't believe it."**

" **All of Hogwarts mourns this day," Headmaster Dumbledore said. He kept vigil at the shrines throughout the night, keeping them illuminated with his wand despite his advanced age. "But our grief must be turned to a good purpose. There can be no hiding this, and if anyone attempts to deny what happened here, that [nuh-uh] has returned, know them for the black traitors that they are."**

" **We must stand together," Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic said at the funeral this past Wednesday. "Now is the time for action and purpose. Let no stone go unturned! We must root out those who would follow You-Know-Who and prevent his rise to power again."**

" **It is surprising that he who we thought banished has made his return known so suddenly," Lucius Malfoy stated. "My family of course will ensure that the Ministry is prepared to take the proper course of action."**

 **Mr. Malfoy was placed under an imperius curse during the last war, and is a staunch supporter of the Minister and his regime.**

 **Terrorist Attack at Saint Cyprian's School for Gifted Youth**

 **By Abby Norman**

 **Terrorists perpetrated a devastating assault upon Saint Cyprian's School for Gifted youth late last Friday, December 20th. Part of the Scottish boarding school was destroyed in a large explosion. Two students and a staff member were slain, their names withheld at the request of their families. This is believed to be the work of a man who is believed to have connections with the IRA and was responsible for a wave of terrorist attacks 10 years ago. The mans alias is "Voldemort." His terrorist organization have identified themselves as "Death Eaters."**

 **If you or anyone you know may have information leading to this man's arrest or capture, please call your local police immediately. Under no circumstances are civilians to approach.**

"He's back, dad."

Harry stood on Platform 9 ¾, staring up at his father. Four days ago, he had awoken to a castle full of flames and chaos. The fighting had been over, the Dark Lord had fled, but things had not gotten back to normal at all. Seamus and Dean were dead, having fallen at Voldemort's hands. Ron and Neville were still in the hospital being treated for their injuries. Ron's parents had canceled their trip to Romania, and Charlie was coming to England to see his injured brother.

"Hermione!"

Harry turned to see his friend embraced by her parents, tears streaming down their faces. He turned back to his father, who was in full uniform with a service pistol in a holster at his side. Harry's own mother and sister rushed to embrace him, and Harry returned their hugs, swallowing back his tears.

"We were so worried about you!" Becky sobbed. "When we heard you'd been hurt from the Headmaster we didn't know what to think."

"It's OK, Becky. I'm home. Voldemort's gone, for now."

Around them, other parents were tearfully embracing their children. Even Draco Malfoy looked scared as his snobbish looking parents stiffly embraced their son. Harry noticed his dad scowling at the Malfoy's.

"Come on, son. Let's get out of here. Harold, Teresa, we need to get going."

The Granger family sniffed and picked up their trunks, following Harry's family out of the portal. Outside, Harry noticed an awful lot of fit looking men sitting on benches, idling around the station, or having quiet conversations. Many of them were carrying suitcases or instrument cases. He thought he recognized a few, but he didn't say anything. Tension was high as they walked back to the car along with the Granger family.

As they passed through a tunnel leading to the parking lot, the McAlister's and Grangers were suddenly grabbed and pulled into an office.

"What is the meaning of this?" Harold Granger demanded. And who-" He started as a man who could have been his twin reached out and held out his hand.

"Your hat and coat, sir," the man said politely. A woman who was similar in appearance to Teresa Granger was also asking for her coat, and a very short woman with frizzy hair just like Hermione's was taking her coat and scarf.

Harry handed over his hat and coat to the very obviously eighteen soldier, who pulled them on along with glasses identical to Harry's own. He even had a scar on his forehead, though this one was probably make up. There was a double for Becky and his mum as well.

"Mr. and Mrs. Granger, Miss Granger, please, cooperate so we can make the switch quickly," Tom said in a quiet but firm tone. "This is for your own safety." New clothes were put on, and the old handed over in stiff silence.

They complied, and the two "families" stepped out having swapped clothes and taken keys.

"What was that all about?" Harold asked, looking rather out of sorts.

"Security precaution," Tom said, nodding towards a basement staircase where two soldiers stood guard. "This way, quickly. We don't know if we've been followed."

A few minutes walking took them to another train station, this one a typical norm train. The families were hustled into a car full of rather ordinary looking people that were just a bit too alert and with too many bulges at waistbands and shoulders to be as ordinary as they looked. The Granger's looked frightened, but they were willing enough to follow Tom and Alice since they'd brought their own children with them. The conductor nodded and spoke into a radio, and the train groaned into motion. In a few minutes, the station was left far behind.

"Tom, please, what's all this about?" Harold whispered, looking at the rest of the passengers with a worried look.

"You can talk freely now," Tom said, standing up and looking to the conductor. "We all clear, Lieutenant Green?"

"Clear sir," the conductor said, doffing his cap to reveal a regulation military hair cut. He scratched his head and returned the cap to its place. "Act normal for now, but we've got some sensitive instrumentation that will detect any magic performed nearby, and two eagles are in the nest to keep watch over us. Don't fret Mr. and Mrs. Granger. You're in the hands of Her Majesty's finest now."

"Surely all this is not needed?" Mrs. Granger asked, looking around with a worried expression. "It was just the one terrorist, wasn't it?"

"Dark Lord Voldemort is hardly just a terrorist, ma'am," one of the men reading a newspaper across the aisle said. He handed it over. It was a copy of the Daily Prophet, not a newspaper one normally saw on a norm train.

"How do you know that?" Hermione gasped, then her eyes widened. "It's like you said Harry! The government does know!"

"Of course we do," Lieutenant Green said, giving Hermione a wink. "Can't have you maggies pulling another fast one on us, hey?"

"But we were told it was secret, that we couldn't tell anyone," Teresa protested.

"That's because it is," Alice said gently, taking Teresa's hand in her own. "The maggies don't know that we know. And we want to keep it that way, for now. At least until we've assessed the danger and determined what to do."

"I'm Rebecca, by the way," Becky said, extending a hand to Hermione. "Harry's big sister. You must be Hermione. I've heard a lot about you."

"A pleasure," Hermione said automatically, taking the hand and shaking it with a numb expression on her face.

The train rolled on as the families awkwardly talked. Harry sat by his father, who had put a protective arm around his son. Normally Harry would protest that he was too old for that sort of thing, but for now he snuggled into the arm, trying to pretend that the world wasn't as dangerous a place as he'd recently discovered it was.

The train took them to a village in the North of England, where the families were placed in two black vans and driven to a secluded manor house. There was plenty of room for everyone, and the place was well stocked for an extended stay. Once everyone was settled, both families sat down in the dining room for tea and a briefing by Tom.

"To be frank, Harold and Teresa, your daughter is now in danger," Tom said. He put up a photo of a dark robed figure. "This is the only known photograph of the man who calls himself Lord Voldemort. It is believed this is an alias, but we have never been able to confirm this. Until recently, he was believed dead."

"But he's not," Harry interjected. "I think I have some sort of connection to him. My scar hurt whenever Quirrell, that is, the professor he possessed, was near me."

"That's something we'll need to debrief you on later, son," Tom said. "For now, let's shelve that. From about July 10th 1970 until October 31st, 1981, Lord Voldemort and his followers, terrorists known as "Death Eaters" were waging a war against all of Britain, but especially the magical side."

"But we've never even heard of this," Harold protested.

Teresa nodded. "They didn't tell us anything about the war when we agreed to send Hermione to school."

"Again, that's probably because they thought him dead," Tom repeated.

"It was believed that when he attempted to kill Harry on October 31st, 1981, that his magic failed him somehow and he was banished or killed," Hermione explained. "It's in Great Wizarding Events of the 20th Century."

"I didn't even know that until a few months ago," Harry grumbled. "No one ever told me anything."

"That's because we didn't know, dear," Alice said gently, hugging her son tightly.

"And therein lies the problem," Tom agreed. "The wizarding world never tells anyone anything it seems. If someone knew Voldemort was going to return, they never told the community at large or informed the Prime Minister, which they are supposed to do if something major occurs. He was informed of his return last night. A rather long delay for such a major event."

"But why is Hermione in danger?" Teresa asked, stroking her daughter's hair.

"Because Voldemort was a member of the pureblood supremacists faction," Hermione lectured. "He and his followers were known to target those born outside of the magical community, who they referred to as 'mudbloods' or 'muggleborns' and their families, as well as targeting muggles in general for terror attacks."

Tom gave the young girl a grin and a wink. "You want to come up here and conduct the briefing? You seem better informed than I am."

Hermione flushed and hugged her mother, muttering something to the negative.

"Hermione is exactly right, however," Tom continued. "It is also believed that two of the casualties of the latest attack were targeted because of their known links to Harry, who Voldemort was searching for to destroy. Why this is, it is not known. We do know that there is a rumored prophecy of some kind, and that apparently Harry is destined to defeat Voldemort or something like that." Tom snorted. "Which if I have any say about it will never even come close to happening. We'll take this bastard out for a click away with a high powered rifle if anyone has any sense."

"Not bloody likely," Harry muttered. His mother shushed him, and he flushed. "Well it isn't! If no one will even tell us he's back they're not going to work with us to help bring about his downfall!"

"Well it's settled then," Harold said, standing up. "We'll leave the country. Move to Australia. I've been to a dentist's conference in Sydney before. They always need dentists there, and if no one will protect Hermione we'll have to see to it ourselves!"

"Dad!" Hermione wailed, looking stricken. "Then how will I learn to be a witch!"

"Your mother and I have gotten along fine without magic, and you can too. Nothing wrong with it. You're a bright girl, could do anything you set your mind to. And you can do no magic if you're dead!"

"What about me?" Harry asked in a quavering voice.

Tom raised a calming hand. "Please, sit down, everyone. There will be people who can protect your daughter, Harold. You can indeed choose to move to Australia, and if you do Her Majesty's Government will assist you. However, I would implore you not to take such drastic action yet. If you do, we lose a valuable tool in our fight against Voldemort. Namely, Hermione. There are a lot of other young maggies that could be targeted, and at least in Hermione's case she'll have a few assigned protectors who can keep her safe."

"Who?" Harold shouted. "Who could possibly keep Hermione safe from that mad man?"

"A few of my comrades in arms are going to be taking up residence in and around Hogwarts," Tom said, nodding to the two men outside casually leaning against the gate. "Sergeant Prewitt here has a plan."

Teresa still didn't look convinced. "Are they really up to the task of dealing with...with magic, though?"

The red headed Sergent cleared his throat. "I grew up around magic, ma'am. It isn't impossible to overcome, far from it. I've trained for this mission my whole life. I'll be watching over Hermione, and Harry, never you worry."

"Harry's going back to Hogwarts," Alice said quietly. "I have every faith in Tom and in the SAS to keep my son safe. And, if we don't get a few witches and wizards on our side, we will be in deep trouble. Thousands died last time."

"I can help, mum, I can!" Hermione sprag to her feet and gave her parents a pleading look. "Please, let me go back! I can learn magic, and I can help! I can be a hero; next time I'll study hard so that next time no one has to die!"

Hermione's parents exchanged a look. "We'll talk about it later," Harold temporized.

"Good enough for now," Tom said. "In the meantime, we'll start on some basic training for Hermione. Fitness, self defense, situational awareness. I can't promise we'll turn her into some sort of super soldier overnight, but she'll be ready if another crisis arises. Our staff onsite will see that her training continues at school."

"What about our home?" Harold asked. "Our things? When can we go back?"

"That is yet to be determined. Plan on spending the rest of the holidays here at the very least," Tom said firmly. "We're not taking any risks until we have a better sense of how things stand."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"You know, this wouldn't be so bad if I could scratch my nose," Neville said, staring up at the ceiling and trying to imagine faces or figures in the woodgrain. He'd done an awful lot of that lately, and today did not appear to be any different.

Ron grunted from the bed across from Neville's. "I'd feel better if I didn't have to call a nurse every time I had to use the loo."

"That too," Neville agreed. He sighed. Hise nose really did itch. He was still immobilized while his spine regrew, and his nerves were still very twitchy from the cruciatus curse. Ron was also confined to his bed; his nerve damage was much worse and his voice was raspy as he spoke.

The boys lay in silence again, Ron shifting slightly. "Do you feel guilty, Neville?"

Neville didn't have to ask what Ron meant. Dean. Seamus. It was awful. "Yeah. A bit. But I mean, we tried, right?"

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Yeah, I guess we did. Oi, Scabbers. Think you could scratch Neville's nose?" The rat on Ron's chest just made a few squeaking sounds before curling up and going back to sleep. "Bloody useless rat," Ron said fondly. Scabbers really had been good company for both the boys, but it was too much to ask that he understand how to scratch a nose.

"He's really back you know," Neville said, imagining that he could see a horrific blotchy face with evil red eyes in the wood grain. He felt his body trembling, but couldn't stop it.

"Yeah. You hear what they're calling you now?"

Neville tried to move his head to look at his left hand, the one that was now branded with the butterfly scar. "It's nonsense. That's Harry, not me."

"It's neither of you," Ron said firmly. "You're my mates, not some stupid title the papers dreamed up. And you're both the bravest blokes I know."

"You're pretty brave too you know. You saved my life."

"I know, you only mention it five times a day. You would have done the same for me."

"Well, yeah." They were silent again before Neville asked, "Do you think that next time, they'll be heroes to stop Voldemort? Like Harry talked about."

"Dunno. Maybe we're supposed to be those heroes. I wouldn't mind having one of those muggle wands the next time Vol...Vol...oh, you know who I mean, then next time he shows up."

Neville swallowed, thinking of his father's broken wand. "I haven't got a wand any longer, you know."

Ron shifted again. Neville knew Ron was trying to look at him, but Neville didn't bother to try. He was immobilized completely. "He broke your wand?"

"It was my dad's, but yeah. I don't really miss it, though. I don't think it ever really suited me."

"My dad told me he was getting me a new wand. I was using Charlie's old wand. Said that if I was going to be dueling the Dark Lord I needed one that really fit me."

"I hope Gran get's me a new wand. I wouldn't mind one that chose me," Neville said wistfully.

"Well she bloody better. Hey, I bet if we had proper wands, we could have hexed the old bastard's pants off."

"Maybe then Dean and Seamus would be alive." Neville knew as soon as he said it, that it had been the wrong thing to say. But it felt true. He did feel guilty, horribly so, and he did blame himself despite everyone saying he shouldn't.

"Maybe," Ron agreed, his own voice bitter. "Never know now, will we?"

The boys lay in sullen silence for half an hour, until Ron's family showed up. They insisted on visiting daily. Ron's mum would have slept at the hospital, but Ron insisted that with Neville there he had plenty of company. The company helped chase away the lingering horrors in the boy's minds, but still, the guilt and trauma of their experiences lingered. Over the years those first painful memories of the War of Magic would fade, in some cases pushed aside by new horrors to recall. But that first loss, that first battle, would remain forever a dark part of the soul in Neville and Ron.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Snape stood in front of his bathroom mirror, staring at his haggard face. He'd hardly slept since the Dark Lord's return. Only when he took Dreamless Sleep did he truly rest, but that sleep reminded him too much of the sleep of the grave. He had failed. His ritual should have worked, should have captured the rogue spirit. In the end, it was that damned phylactery that was to blame. Snape hadn't taken into account that the spirit was bound to objects outside of his ritual binding, and that had allowed it to escape. Now the Dark Lord roamed free, and Snape knew his days were numbered.

 _Traitor._

The word echoed endlessly in Snape's mind. He was not distraught over having betrayed the Dark Lord; he would have done so eventually anyway, but that he had tipped his hand at such an early stage was unforgivable. How could he defend Lily's son now? He had betrayed her, and her memory once again. This time, there might not be any redemption. The Dark Lord was back, growing in power and in strength. Snape knew he was, though there were no signs of it yet, he felt deep down in his bones that the inevitable had been only delayed, and not for long.


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Action and Inaction

"Cornelius, you cannot delay. Every moment you hesitate is one that allows Voldemort to grow in strength. You must work now to undermine his political power and finances. If you do this, you will long be remembered as the greatest Minister of Magic of all time. If not, your memory will be of the fool that delivered us all into the hands of evil."

Cornelius Fudge spun his green bowler hat on his index finger, absently twirling it as he tried to think. You could practically hear the grinding of gears inside of his head as he did so, as if each revolution of the hat brought his mind one step closer to a decision. He did not meet the gaze of Dumbledore, instead keeping his eyes locked firmly on the green blur.

Holding his peace, Dumbledore sat behind his desk, stroking his beard and doing his best to look both wise and imposing.

"Well, I suppose we could work with the goblins to seize the assets of those Death Eaters in Azkaban," Fudge said slowly. "And we could set up a surveillance program around those who had past associations with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Holding back a sigh, Dumbledore nodded encouragingly and allowed his eyes to twinkle merrily. "A good start, Cornelius. A very good start indeed. I insist that you allow this old man some small level of comfort for his students, however. I am requesting that Alastor Moody be released to me as a temporary Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. He could also act as our security officer, to ensure that no further repeats of recent tragic events occur."

"Yes…yes that would be taken as positive action by the ministry, having an old war hero assigned to help watch the students." Fudge suddenly brightened. "And he can take that um, wonderful girl apprentice of his to assist with such things." Fudge muttered something under his breath about clumsy girl's, tea, and ruining his third best dress robes.

"Nymphadora would make a fine addition to our staff," Dumbledore agreed. He had been considering Gilderoy Lockhart as the next potential DADA professor, but that was to expose the man as a fraud and to show students exactly what a hero wasn't. At this time however, Dumbledore needed someone capable of actually teaching as well as defending the school if need be.

He deeply regretted the deaths under his watch, and took personally responsibility for his laxity. No one else, aside from Severus, seemed to finger him as the culprit. If one good thing had come from this, it was that public opinion seemed to largely have turned against Voldemort, having caused the death of two children and the much beloved Madam Pomfrey, who had cared for the injuries and illnesses of two generations of Magical Britain. Even some die hard Voldemort supporters such as the Malfoy's seemed to be rather taken aback by recent events, and reluctant to seek out their lord. Dumbledore knew for a fact that if there was one thing that could redeem Lucius and Narcissa, it was their love for each other and their son. It was a thin hope to be sure, but he believed in giving everyone second chances, even those who had walked in darkness as long as the Malfoys.

"Merlin's wrinkled behind," Moody growled once Fudge had left. "I thought the idiot would quibble with you all day. He needs to go, Albus. He has no concept of-"

"CONSTANT BLOODY VIGILANCE!"

Dumbledore actually jumped, taken aback at the sudden shout. He looked up at young Tonk's in mild surprise. Her hair was black today, he supposed to symbolize mourning colors. The young woman was grinning from ear to ear, her head sticking in the doorway. "Oi, boss, you want me on patrol starting now? I figure I could at least inspect the wards, yeah?"

"Do it, Tonks," Moody growled, his magical eye swiveling around to look at her through the back of his head. "And brush up on your first to third year DADA. You'll be teaching the first three years of classes."

There was a loud thump, and Nymphadora had to pick herself up off the floor, having tripped and fallen. "What was that, boss?"

Dumbledore himself had to slip his glasses back on. They'd fallen right off his nose. "Alastor, I was rather hoping you would-"

"I am not here to babysit snot nosed brats," Moody growled. "I'm here to ensure that they're safe. And I can't bloody well do that if I'm doing nothing but teaching classes. Tonk's is a bright girl, and kids love her. More than me, anyway. I'll teach the upper level stuff, and she can handle the ankle biters. She'll do better than Gilderoy 'I'm a fraud' Lockhart."

"Gilderoy Lockhart, coming here?" Tonk's looked hopeful now, until she saw Moody's grim expression. "Er, right. Patrol, and brush up on my beginning counter curses, magical creatures, and simple jinxes and hexes. Righto, boss, bigger boss!" With that she was gone, with only one minor calamity as she descended the stairs, having tripped over the gargoyle.

"I appreciate you doing this for me, Alastor," Dumbledore said, offering his candy bowl.

Moody glanced at it and grimaced, shaking his head. "An open bowl like that, Albus? Anyone with access to this office could have poisoned it or put a confudus charm on it. Foolish of you, really."

Dumbledore chuckled and popped a sweet into his mouth. "The only people with access to my office are Hogwarts professors. I hardly think that-"

"AND WHO WAS YOUR BLOODY DADA TEACHER FOR THE PAST TERM?" Moody roared, his magical eye pinning Dumbledore to the wall. "Oh yes, you've gone soft, Albus. Soft as wet behind the ears Tonk's. Merlins hairy ballsack man, my first year apprentice is going to be a better, saner choice that the one you had. How could you not see that?"

Dumbledore slumped in his seat, the lemon drop turning to ash in his mouth. "It was all my fault. I thought he was merely in communication with Voldemort, or possibly simply a greedy man after the stone. I never imagined that he would…"

"He was and is capable of anything, no matter how perverse or sadistic," Moody snarled. "If you had even an inkling of his return, you should have called the Order. We could have sorted it out and prevented the deaths of three innocents! Get your act together, Albus. This is going to be another war, and a bloody one unless I miss my guess. I can be here for only a year. Then the curse kicks in. I'll try to spread the duties out with Tonks so that one or both of us can return at some point, but that's pushing things. The DADA professorship curse has never been broken, and I doubt it will be until the Dark Lord is dead for good."

"Wise of you, Alastor. I shall endeavor to be worthy of the trust you place in me. From now on, I shall take no risks when it comes to Hogwarts or her students."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Sergeant, we simply cannot afford to take any more risks in regards to Hogwarts or he students."

Charles Prewitt stood at attention before the desk of the Right Honorable Dame Thatcher, and did his best not to sweat. "Yes, ma'am. I agree. That's why I proposed that we infiltrate the school."

Thatcher's eyes narrowed. "I agree. Your plan has my approval. However, you must know that the lodestone hardening is still in it's testing phase. You will have no technological support, and the number of troops we will have available to send in as support will be extremely limited. So far, only you squibs are able to penetrate the so-called anti-muggle wards despite the best efforts of our scientists. Your contact with your family will also be necessarily limited."

"Yes ma'am," Prewitt agreed. "But I'm not going to allow Tom's boy to go back into that den of serpents without some backup. And…" he paused, studying his boots for a moment, then looking back up at Thatcher. "Permission to speak freely, ma'am?"

"Granted."

"It's my daughter. Mafalda." Prewitt felt his throat go dry, but he continued on. "She's showing signs of accidental magic. She's only nine, so I have two years to know for sure, but if she does turn out to be a maggie…."

"Then you want to be there for her. That, Sergeant, is a motivation I can wholly sympathize with. Your wife understands the plan?"

"Yes sir. Sophia understands completely. She's worried too. If I can be there for Mafalda, even if it means I have to be away for now, it will be worth it."

"Very well. You shall have full access to all our resources. Anything you need, we shall supply. And, if for any reason, the target is not cooperative, you also have carte blanche to do whatever it takes to ensure that his position becomes available."

Prewitt nodded, hoping it wouldn't come to having to kill or imprison the target, but willing to do whatever it took to protect young Harry or his darling daughter. "Understood, ma'am."

Two days later, Charles was in Hogsmeade village, having a butterbeer at the Hogshead. He wasn't actually a fan of the weak alcohol, but he needed to keep his head. He had been waiting for a while, and was eyeing the occupants of the pub with an expert's eye. Some of them were posers, not really dangerous, just hanging out with a tough crowd. One witch, however had the look of a killer. He had memorized her features and planned on checking to see if they had a file on here. Another burly wizard looked like he knew his way around a tavern brawl, and rather enjoyed one.

The door opened, letting the frigid air in for a moment, and the target stepped into the pub, a sour expression on his face. Charles motioned for the man to join him, and pushed over a tankard of ale.

"Alright, what is this about?" Argus Filch growled, taking the ale and downing it with surprising rapidity. "And you had best keep the drinks coming, or I'm leaving."

"I've got something better," Charles said, and pushed a greasy envelop across the table to Filch.

The old man gave him a dirty look, then picked up the envelope and opened it. Several bright pamphlets fell out, and Filch stared at them. "What the bloody hell is this?"

"All of your dreams coming true," Charles said smoothly, nodding to the pamphlets. "Which one catches your fancy?"

Filch looked over the pamphlets, obviously confused. "I don't know what you mean. What use have I for 'vacation brochures.' I could never afford to visit Sunny Melbourne, or Scenic Wellington, or the Falkland Islands."

"What if I told you that you could live there, in luxury, if you only do me a very simple favor," Charles said smoothly.

Filch looked up in astonishment. "Live there?" He squawked. "Among the muggles? A wizard like me could never-"

"Oh come off it, Argus," Charles said, snorting and shaking his head. "You're no more a wizard than I am. We're both of us-"

"Don't say it!" Filch hissed, looking around in panic. "Don't you bloody say it!"

"If you insist," Charles said, nodding genially.

Filch looked back at the pamphlets then, eyeing the picture of a retreat to the woodlands of Alberta, Canada. "That doesn't look so bad though. No one around. Nice little set up in the woods. Trapping and hunting, you think?" He suddenly shook himself. "But how could I leave? How could you afford to send me there, and why would you want to? I don't even know you, you just told me you had a proposition for catching a poltergeist."

"I lied," Charles admitted. "I just want your job. And if you give it to me, you'll be able to live out the rest of your life, far away from Poltergeist or children, just you and Ms. Norris. No one to judge you for any…irregularities…in your spell casting."

"That doesn't sound too bad," Filch admitted. He narrowed his eyes suddenly. "You're not with You-Know-Who, are you? Alastor warned me about people trying to infiltrate the castle."

Charles blinked. Alastor? That couldn't be… "Mad-Eye's at the castle?" he blurted.

"Ha! Got you know! Don't you dare move, I'll report you and we'll hang you in the dungeons, Moody said he'd let me try the rack on any Death Eaters we catch and-"

There was an audible click, and Charles cleared his throat. Flich trailed off and looked down at Charles' lap, where a pistol had appeared. "Let me lay everything on the table, Mr. Filch." All the geniality had gone out of Charles' voice, and Filch looked up to see eyes that were hard as flint. He paled, realizing that he was in far over his head. "You have two choices, Mr. Filch. You can take the offer and go live a life of relative luxury and seclusion somewhere far from Britain. It will be everything you could have ever wished for, every opportunity that was ever denied you because you were born without magic in a society that believes that magic is everything. Or, you can refuse the offer, and end up in a dark hole somewhere. Alive or dead, depending on your level of resistance. Because one way or another, at the end of the day, someone is going to have your job, and that someone is going to ensure that what happened last week can never, ever happen again."

"You're not with the Death Eaters, are you," Filch said, his eyes fixed on the gun. "They'd never touch something like that."

"No, Mr. Filch, I am not with the Death Eaters."

Filch swallowed. At heart, he was both a coward and a bully. He enjoyed tormenting children for no better reason than that they were weak and annoyed him. He was also terrified that anyone would bully him, and incapable of standing up to someone he perceived as stronger than him. "Well, alright. What do you want me to-"

"Here is your letter of resignation," Charles said, handing him another stained envelop.

Filch opened it to find a letter what he would have sworn was his handwriting, postmarked for tomorrow and addressed to the Headmaster. "You never were going to take no for an answer, were you?"

"Not in the slightest."

Filch grunted. "Well, I suppose a life of luxury won't be so bad. I'll still need to get my cat though, haven't been able to locate her for-"

"Bert?" Charles called to a rough looking man in the corner. "If you could bring over the specimen?"

The man brought over a crate from which a soft hissing sound could be heard. Filch felt his temper rising, as he looked in and found Mrs. Norris crouching in the corner, hissing at her captivity.

"My sweet!" Filch cried, reaching into the crate and taking out his cat. He stroked her back until she calmed, glaring at Charles. "You bloody bastard."

"I'm not a cruel man, Filch. I had no intention of harming your cat." The fact that there was no mention of intentions of harming Filch was not unnoticed by the old groundskeeper. He was grumpy, not dumb.

"Well. I guess I just have to sign this and pick my destination," Filch grumbled.

Charles laughed and slapped him on the back. "Don't be so glum my good man. You've just won the lottery, a lifetime vacation in scenic Canada. You'll never see another Weasley or poltergeist again."

Filch grunted, and found a woman he'd thought was a regular witch and a fierce looking older man at his side. "My friends will escort you to a waiting vehicle where you will be taken to your new home. I'll see to the letter. Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Filch. And thank you for the recommendation as your replacement."

Filch didn't bother to protest that all his things were back at the castle. He had a feeling he was never going to see Hogwarts again. Bah. Good riddance. He'd never liked the place anyway.

Charles smiled and drained the last of his butterbeer. Then he walked up to the bar and ordered something rather stronger. He'd need to look properly rumpled in the morning.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"Well Mr. Prewitt, it is fortunate you were staying in Hogsmeade. I confess, I did not think I would need to find a replacement for our Groundskeeper anytime soon. Mr. Filch had become something of a fixture at the school."

Dumbledore smiled at the slightly rumpled man in the ill-fitting suit before him. He had a bit of stubble in the red Prewitt colors, and a bit of a hangdog look.

"Well, it's just lucky I was in the neighborhood, yeah," the man said in a tired voice. "Life's not been to good for me lately. Don't fit in anywhere it seems. My wife certainly thought so." He grimaced. "Ex wife, I should say."

"Yes, you have my condolences," Dumbledore said, trying to keep the pity out of his voice. Squibs did have such a rough lot. No magic, so they never really fit into the world they were born too. And knowledge of things hidden, so they never really felt at home among the mundane either. He wasn't surprised the man's marriage had failed; such things often happened to those of the magical world who married among the muggles. Dumbledore certainly wasn't one of those who believed such unions to be a travesty, only a pragmatist who understood that such an unequal arrangement was full of its own pitfalls.

"Well, you do come highly recommended. I see that Argus knew you and thought highly of your character. I also accept your letters of recommendation from your commander's in the military. I also completely understand their little references to you being a 'bit odd' or 'never really fitting in.'"

"Said that, did they?" Charles said, grimacing. "I knew there was a reason I was having such a hard time finding a job after getting discharged."

"Well, I believe we will have a home for you here at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. Moody had vetted the man personally and stated that he had no connection to any dark magic. The Prewitt name was a good name too, and truth be told Filch was getting a bit cantankerous in his old age. It would be good to shake things up a bit.

"Thank you, sir, I appreciate it," Charles said, coming to his feet and shaking Dumbledore's hand. "You'll never regret hiring me, I swear."

"I have every confidence that you will be wholly satisfactory, Mr. Prewitt."

Dumbledore didn't see the smile on Charles' face, because he waited until after he was well out of the office to allow himself one. If Dumbledore had, he may have experience a few doubts, but it would not be for a long time that Dumbledore would realize just how thoroughly he'd been had.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"I think I'm going to die." Hermione was on all fours, trying desperately to catch her breath. "I thought we were friends."

A hand reached down and helped Hermione up, handing her a bottle of water. "Drink in small sips. Over do it and-"

"After intense exercise intensive hydration can result in nausea, vomiting, and cramps and will reduce overall performance." Hermione did take small sips, though it was hard to do so.

Becky grinned at her. "Yeah, that. Still though, it was only 3k. Countries not even all that rough. A few gentle hills and all. Harry's off with dad doing a 10k."

"That's because your brother is a lunatic," Hermione grumbled. "I never even saw him exercising."

"He is a bit out of shape," Becky agreed. "Though he said he had some exercise for quidditch practice. Still though, he needs to keep up his strength training and martial arts practice."

Hermione groaned and shook her head. "I'm not going to have to do more of that, am I? I think I'm still sore."

"You're going to do it every day if you know what's good for you," Becky said, her tone going from light to serious. "It could save your life."

Wincing slightly, Hermione nodded reluctantly. "I guess now we do the push ups and the other things?"

"Of course. Come on, see if you can keep up." Becky dropped to push up position and began to do smooth, fluid pushups.

Hermione got down next to the older girl and managed only three before collapsing. Becky paused and nodded at her. "Do them with your knees down. Build up the muscles before you try to do them like me. I've been doing these every day for as long as I can remember. I've got to become Batman, after all."

"I think you'd be a much better fit for Eowyn instead of a silly costumed hero," Hermione panted as she resumed doing the pushups with her knees down. It was easier, but still tiring.

"Yes!" Becky crowed. "Finally, one of you maggies actually knows their British literature! Ginny didn't know anything until I began educating her."

"I was raised as a norm, thank you very much," Hermione muttered. She did a few more pushups and then flopped on her back, exhausted.

"Perfect. Here, I'll hold your feet while you do some sit-ups then you can do mine. Then I think we should do some gymnastic practice. What's your favorite book, by the way? I'm really partial to _Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH_."

"Prefer non-fiction," Hermione panted as she forced herself to do sit ups. "Like Bathilda Bagshot, maggie writing though."

"You're not on about Lockhart like Ginny is are you?" Becky demanded.

Hermione managed to flush a deeper shade of red than she already was, but was too out of breath to say anything.

"I'm convinced his books are a load of rubbish. Granted I know next to nothing about how to defeat dark monsters, but most of the stuff he does make no tactical sense. If he the man really had defeated a werewolf by wresting it, wouldn't he have been bitten or killed? And how exactly can you talk a ghoul to death? Can they even reason? Right, that's enough. Switch."

Gratefully Hermione changed places with Becky, enjoying the break. She wasn't jealous of the fact that the older girl was hammering out the sit ups like they were nothing, of course she wasn't. She just hadn't had much experience with exercise before, seeing little need to exercise her muscles when her mind was so much more important.

Once they were done it was a series of flexibility and balancing exercises. Apparently in addition to judo and British literature, Becky had something of an obsession with gymnastics.

"Robin was a gymnast," Becky explained as she helped Hermione with some basic flexibility stretches."

"But Robin isn't real," Hermione protested.

"Too right. That's why when I start doing my heroics I'm going to wear something sensible instead of a red and green leotard."

Hermione was pretty sure that Becky had completely missed her point, but decided that arguing with the girl required too much energy at this particular point in time. Besides, it was rather nice to have someone to be with who wasn't a boy. Lavender and Parvati were polite enough to her, but she wasn't close with them like she was Harry, Ron, and Neville.

Thinking of them brought a pang to Hermione's heart. She hoped Ron and Neville were doing alright.


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter 18: Goodwill towards men

"Merry Christmas, Ron." Ginny stood in the doorway, smiling despite the early hour. They were back home at the burrow now, the healers having decided that Ron was healthy enough to be released back home.

"Merry Christmas, Ginny." Ron reached out and pulled Ginny into a quick hug, to her surprise. He gave her a embarrassed grin. "Sorry. Just, you know, been thinking. Like, what if I never got to hug my sister again?" He looked away, embarrassed his sentimentality.

To his surprise, Ginny gave him a longer hug, and he could feel his pajamas getting a little wet where her face was pushed into his chest. She didn't say anything, breaking away and hurrying down the stairs. "Come on, it's Christmas, you've got presents!"

Reaching under his pillow, Ron pulled out the only Christmas present that really mattered to him. It was a new wand, 14", willow, with unicorn hair. He'd gotten it yesterday from Ollivanders. He had assured his parents that this counted as both a birthday present and a christmas gift, and had taken every opportunity to handle his wand since. He hadn't had a chance to really practice magic with it yet, but he was anxious to do so.

"Merry Christmas!" Fred shouted as he slid down the banister past Ron.

"And many more!" Cheered George as he followed close behind.

Ron smiled and hopped onto the banister himself, following the twins down.

"Merry Christmas," Percy said, patting Ron on the shoulder as he flopped onto the living room floor.

Ron was a little surprised that Percy didn't lecture him, but his brother seemed to have calmed down quite a lot in the past few weeks in regards to rule following. Ron wasn't sure why, but he wasn't going to complain.

"Oi, Merry Christmas you rugrats!" Ron and Ginny screamed in protest and glee as Charlie lifted them both under his arms and hauled them over to the tree, depositing them on the couch where Bill tickled them mercilessly for a few moments.

"Merry Christmas, everyone!" called mum, bustling into the room with her hair still in curlers. When she looked at Ron, her eyes filled with tears, and she hurried over to the tree and started fussing with the presents. Mum had been crying a lot, Ron noticed. He turned his own damp eyes away. He had been too, though he wouldn't admit it.

"Before we start," dad said, standing next to the tree gazing around at everyone. "I want us to all take a moment." He cleared his throat and looked a little embarrassed. "I'm not normally a religious person, as you all know, but today, after everything that's happened, I think we should take a moment to say thanks, and meditate on the fact that we're all here. Healthy and whole, and how easily it could be otherwise."

Mum sniffed a bit, wrapping her arms around her husband and bowing her head. Every one else did the same, hugging the family member next to them. Fred and George even sat on either side of Percy and embraced their older brother. Percy for his part put an arm around Fred and George, looking solemn. Ron hugged Ginny and Bill, Charlie put his arm around Bill and reached out to hug his father, and Ginny clung to Ron. The silence lasted a long time, but it was neither awkward nor unpleasant. The entire Weasley clan took delight in the closeness of family and their love for one another.

"I think we should pray for Neville and Dean and Seamus," Ron blurted. He looked around earnestly, trying to fight back the tremble in his voice, but he noticed that his hands were shaking slightly. He wondered if he'd ever be able to really play quidditch now. The healers said the cursed nerve damage was permanent."

"Why don't you do it, Ron," dad said quietly, looking at his youngest son with pride.

Ron bowed his head. "Dear God, or magic, or whoever is listening. Thanks that I'm OK, and that my family is here. Thanks that Neville is OK too. Wherever Dean and Seamus are, let them know that we were mates, and I wish I could have saved them and that I tried. Keep us all safe, and don't let nothin' bad happen again, OK? Thanks."

"For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, forever and ever, amen," Charlie said quietly. The rest of the family looked at him in shock. He shrugged. "Well, I guess I found more than dragons in Romania. They're a bit keener on church there than we are here. Not going to make a big deal about it, but I'll be praying for all of us a bit harder now."

"That isn't a terrible idea," dad said quietly, then smiled and clapped his hands. "And now I believe we have some presents to open!"

To no one's shock, everyone got a woolen jumper with their initials on it. Ron put his on without complaint, giving his mum a big hug. For some reasons the jumpers meant a lot more when Ron almost hadn't gotten to wear his this year. To his amazement, there were also extra presents for Ron, including a broomstick that was autographed by every single one of the Chudley Canons.

"With our regards, for a fan who is braver than all of us," Ron read from the card. He looked up in shock. "Is this for real?"

"Quite real," dad said, giving Ron a wink. "Evidently they heard that you were a big fan of theirs, and contacted your mother and I when you were in the hospital, asking if it would be alright to send you a gift. I told them that we would save it for Christmas, and you'd likely be in good enough health to ride it by then."

"A cleansweep 10," Ginny gasped, running her hand over the broom handle. "They're brand new."

"The cannons have a contract to promote them," Ron told her, not taking his eyes off of the photo of all the Canons, who were waving at him merrily.

"There's more here," Percy said, handing Ron another wrapped package. "Some of it still needs to be sorted through. Sorry, Ron, but at least one letter that contained some money for you was cursed. I've been helping Bill go through it all, but this one is safe."

Ron read the name on the package and laughed. "Well this one's from Harry, so I should bloody well hope so." He tore open the wrappings and held up the odd container that was on top. "What's this?"

"Batteries!" dad said, swooping over and taking the odd metal cylinders out of Ron's hand. "Ron, this is wonderful, Harry has given you your very own batteries!"

Ron looked down at the other package in his hand and grinned. "And a gameboy! I bet I need the batteries to make it work." He found two cartridges as well, Tetris and Chess. There was a note with the cartridges. "Merry Christmas. Now you won't have to ask me to play all the time. You can beat on the computer for once."

Hermione and Neville had sent gifts as well. Neville had sent Ron a box of chocolate frogs, having learned that Ron was an avid card collector. Hermione had, of course, given Ron a book. It looked interesting though, 'Ender's Game' sounded like it would be exciting at least, though Ron discreetly put it away under the pile of other gifts well wishers had sent them. He had a load of candy, a few stuffed animals, even quite a bit of pocket money, all sent by people who wanted to thank him for fighting off the dark lord.

The hardest gifts to open though were from Dean and Seamus' family. Dean's family had sent him a Westham United jersey and poster, saying they had been Dean's. Dean had evidently told them that Ron was an avid sports fan, though he had neglected to mention that Ron knew nothing about muggle football. Ron determined that he would be a life long supporter of Westham United, and even learn the rules of muggle football. He'd have Harry or Hermione teach him. Scratch that, he'd have Harry teach him. Harry had probably actually played a game, and he didn't need a lecture on every rule of the sport or the boring details of its history.

Seamus' family had sent a photo of Seamus and Ron, taken at the Slytherin vs Gryffindor quidditch match that year. Their faces were both painted scarlet and gold, and both boys were roaring silently in the photo. "To the brave boy who stood with my son in his darkest hour. It is a comfort to know he had friends like you," Seamus' mother had written. Ron carefully tucked the photo away, knowing he'd treasure it for the rest of his life.

He looked up to find his mother sitting with him. She reached over and wiped away Ron's tears with the sleeve of her jumper. "They'll always be with you, dear," mum said quietly.

Ron nodded. "Like Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon?"

"Exactly like that," mum agreed, her own eyes dewy. Her brothers had died in the last war, fighting off a band of Death Eaters. Mum understood what it was like to see people you loved dead at the feet of the Dark Lord.

At breakfast, everyone was startled when several loud explosions could be heard from the yard. Fred and George and snuck off, which no one had commented on being too busy eating. It was discovered that Harry had sent them a model rocket kit, and that they had decided to begin experimenting immediately.

"You didn't try to launch Scabber's again did you?" Ron demanded.

"Nah," George said, picking a smoking lump out of the rocket.

"Used a gnome instead," Fred explained, poking the lump. He yowled when it bit him, then scrambled away under a bush.

Mum lectured Fred and George all the way back to the kitchen, though her heart didn't really seem to be in it on Christmas morning. Ron smiled, looking around at his happy family as they all ate. This was why you became a hero, Ron supposed. Not for the glory or the new broom sticks, even if they were signed by your favorite quidditch team, but because you loved people and wanted them to be safe. He nodded to himself and went back to his bacon, chewing contentedly.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Merry Christmas!" Harry peered into Hermione's room, grinning from ear to ear. "Come on Hermione, it's Christmas!"

"Urrrrrgghhh," Hermione groaned, stuffing her head under her pillow. "How can you be so excited? We had to run in the snow yesterday, and it was freezing. I'm still not warm!"

"No running today," Harry promised. "Just presents."

"Fine!" Hermione snapped, peaking out from under her pillow. "Now go away, I'm not dressed!"

Closing the door, Harry bolted down the stairs shouting at the top of his lungs, "Merry Christmas! Wake up, Father Christmas came!"

Becky was the first to join Harry, still young enough that she was excited about the prospect of Christmas, though old enough to think she needed to act as though she wasn't. "Merry Christmas Harry."

"We've got loads of presents!" Harry shouted, jumping from couch to couch. "And there's a bunch for Hermione too!"

Hermione was next, followed by the adults. Hermione had changed into a t-shirt and jeans, though she still looked slightly grumpy. She reached for a present, then stopped when she saw Harry and Becky waiting patiently, their presents untouched. "Aren't we going to open our presents?" she asked.

"Not until we've read the story," Harry told her. "I thought you would know that."

"Not everyone reads the story on Christmas, Harry," Becky said patiently. She handed her father a bible, marked with bright Christmas cracker wrapper.

"It's a tradition," Tom explained as he took the book and opened it. "You can begin if you want, Hermione, but the McAlisters always read the Christmas story every year, to remind us of just why we celebrate Christmas."

Hermione nodded and sat back. Her family was very much atheistic, though ever since her Hogwarts letter had arrived, Hermione had quietly begun to wonder if perhaps there was more to the religious stuff that her prior research had indicated. She'd never delved very deeply into spirituality, but with everything that happened the prospect of a God looking out for everyone was indeed an attractive proposition.

"And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed…" Tom read in a loud, clear voice.

Hermione sat back and listened to the Christmas story. She had never heard it in its entirety, especially not read in a very serious tone by someone who clearly believed it was true. It was all very nice, even if Hermione was quite sure it was all just a story. Harry and Becky listened, their minds clearly more than half on the presents that lay before them, but they made no move towards them even after their father had stopped and the bible was closed, instead closing their eyes and folding their hands in their laps. Hermione copied them, though she kept one eye open.

"Heavenly father, thank you that my family is here and safe today," Tom prayed. "Thank you that my son is safe. We pray for the souls of his friends, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan as well as Poppy Pomfrey, who were so cruelly cut down. We have hope Lord, that you came among us, came as a child to deliver us. I thank you especially for my son, Lord, for Harry. That he was given to us to help save us from those who would harm us. Give us each the strength and courage to continue on, Lord, to oppose evil and to bring unity and peace to all mankind, magical and non magical."

"Amen," the McAlister family said, and no sooner were the words out of their mouths then Harry and Becky let loose a battle cry and tore into their presents like mad beasts.

Hermione was slower and more delicate in the opening of her own gifts, taking the time to carefully unwrap each one so as not to damage them. Her parents had of course, gotten her books. This was not only to be expected, but it was exactly what Hermione wanted. For pleasure reading they had gotten her a boxed set of the first three books in the Wheel of Time. They looked very interesting, and Hermione carefully set them aside. Next was a biography of titled " _The Den Mother: the Life of Helga Hufflepuff_ ", by Gertrude Smith. That went on the pile as well, neatly atop the first books.

Harry had gotten Hermione a book on martial arts as well as all 23 issues of "The Daring Adventures of Supergirl." Hermione supposed those might be worth reading if she had absolutely nothing else, though the martial arts book, "Jeet Kune Do" would be handy and placed them on the stack at the bottom. Becky had gotten Hermione a set of training weights and calendar with various suggested exercises on it. Groaning, Hermione made herself put it on the stack. She would need those she supposed. Ron had sent over some sweets, bless him. Hermione hastily snuck a chocolate, glancing around to make sure no one yelled at her for violating her training regime. She wasn't sure if dieting was a part of it, though there had been lots of meat and vegetables at meals lately. Neville had sent Hermione a Fire-Breathing-Snapdragon, with flowers that really did breath little spurts of fire when you squeezed them, along with " _Seven Flowers for an Enchantress' Garden_ " of which the snapdragons were listed. The snapdragon went far away from the books, though Hermione supposed they were quite charming.

"Nice, check it out Hermione!" Harry cried, raising his hands to show scarlet dragonhide gloves. On his face were a pair of gold colored goggles, and he grinned widely. "Quidditch gear!" It all clashed rather loudly with the bright green woolen jumper with an "H" on it.

"Cool," Hermione said, mentally sighing. She supposed the gloves and goggles would be useful if Harry needed to get anywhere on a broom fast, which wasn't out of the realm of possibility.

"Where'd this one come from?" Alice said, holding up a packing wrapped in brown paper and tied with a string. "Did one of you get this, Harold, Teresa?"

The package was quickly snatched away by Tom. "No, no one got it. French, Baker, get in here!"

Two men, naked guns in their hands rushed into the room. "What is it Major?"

"Where did this come from?" Tom demanded, holding out the package as he hurried away from the families around the tree. "Did anyone bring a package by last night? This is addressed to Harry."

"Bloody hell," one of the men swore. He grabbed the package and hustled it out of the room.

"It's those damn birds sir," the other man said. "We've been having to fight them off. I don't know how they do it, but they seem to be able to find the boy wherever he is. I thought we prevented any from getting through, but one might have slipped in. We'll test the package and let you know if it is safe. Merry Christmas, everyone. Sorry for the intrusion." With that he stepped back outside, gun at the ready.

Hermione found herself scooped up onto the couch between her parents, and she nestled in, her pulse racing. Even on Christmas it seemed, they were not safe from threats.

"It's alright," Tom said, holding his own family tight in his arms. "The men will see to it that the package is thoroughly tested. If it is safe, you can have it son. But there will be no chances taken. Not today."

"It's alright dad," Harry said, nodding in understanding. "It's still been a brilliant Christmas. Thanks for the book on quidditch Hermione. It looks fantastic."

"Welcome," Hermione mumbled, looking down.

Alice extracted herself from everyone and smiled all around. "Well, I think it's time to introduce the Grangers to another McAlister tradition. Have you ever tried monkey bread?"

Hermione happily pulled another chunk of sticky, lumpy bread from the tray and stuffed it into her mouth. Butter, sugar, and cinnamon ran down her mouth, and she sighed in happiness.

"Learned about this when I was training with the Americans," Tom explained. "Made it for Alice our first Christmas together. Been a tradition ever since."

This was one tradition Hermione quite agreed with, and the seven of them gorged themselves on the monkey bread, washing it down with milk, orange juice, or tea. The festive air was only slightly marred by the earlier incident, and Hermione was quite happy to continue her celebration for the rest of the day.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Merry Christmas, mum." Neville sat in his wheelchair, looking into his mother's face. She wouldn't meet his eyes; she rarely did.

To his surprize, Alice Longbottom held out a closed hand. Gently, Neville took the hand and his mother placed something in his palm. He studied the gum wrapper, then carefully put it in his pocket.

"Thanks mum, it's just what I wanted." Neville tentatively put a hand on his mother's shoulder, but she flinched away, shaking. He withdrew his hand. He understood now. Understood how any touch could hurt, could bring back the memories of the pain. He'd only been tortured for a few seconds. His parents had been under the cruciatus for hours. But he could understand, at least. He looked over at Gran, who was sitting with her son, spooning soup into his drooling mouth and wiping at the dribbles that leaked out. Mum was better than dad, most of the time. Evidently dad had claimed to know more than his wife, had tried to spare her the worst of the Death Eater's ministrations. He hadn't succeeded, and he was a near vegetable now.

Neville nodded up to the mediwitch, who wheeled Neville over to his father. "Hey, dad. Merry Christmas." Neville placed a small box of toothpicks on the covers.

With a loud moan of pleasure, Frank clumsily scooped up the box, and began to take the toothpicks out and snap them, one by one. He would do that for hours, completely absorbed by the task. It was the only thing he would do for himself, and no one was quite sure why.

Gran gave Neville a look, then sighed and brought a small box of her own out of her purse and set it next to the other one as he son gurgled in pleasure. "Merry Christmas." Her voice was not bitter, only full of longing. She remembered a tall, bright, handsome boy who had been the apple of her eye. Now she had drooling idiot who couldn't even feed himself, who spent his days snapping little sticks or gazing silently at nothing.

Neville had already given his mother another box of chewing gum, and as he left she held out her hand. Neville held out his own, and received yet another wrapper. He smiled and waved goodbye, then sat back in his chair. He was due to be released tomorrow, but regrowing a spine was a tricky business, and he had to stay off his feet until then.

"Tomorrow I think we shall go to Ollivanders, if you are feeling up to it," Gran said as they went down the hallway."

Neville looked up, his eyes full of hope. "A wand of my own?"

Gran nodded, her eyes distant. "I nearly lost you, Nevy. It was foolish of me to think your father's wand was the right one for you. Maybe if you had had a wand that had chosen you…."

"I still would have gotten my back broken, Gran," Neville said gently. "I'm only 11, and that was Volde-"

"Do not speak that name in my presence!" Gran hissed. Her eyes flashed for a moment, and then she sagged and stroked the top of Neville's head. "That wound will never heal for me, child. Please. It is too painful for me to bear."

Neville nodded. Back in his room, Gran took out _Tales of Beedle the Bard_ and began to read to Neville. He sat back, looking up at the ceiling woodgrain as the story washed over him. A wand of his own. That would be nice. Maybe next time it would be different. He imagined standing side by side with Harry, Ron and Hermione, their wands out, their faces grim as they challenged the dark lord. For some reason, he imagined that he had a muggle weapon in his other hand, and that weapon brought him comfort. In his mind's eye it was a sword that shot lightning, and with his friends he faced down the darkness so that no one else would ever have to visit their parents in Saint Mungo's at Christmas. In his pocket, he played with the gum wrappers and closed his eyes, listening to the story of the Peverell brothers who who had met Death.

He wondered which brother he was.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

 _Authors Note:_

 _The Christmas story is Luke 2:1-21, and Matthew 1:18-2:18, in this case from the King James._

 _And after that WAFF chapter, I leave you with this:_

" _Bah. Humbug." Snape sat in his bedroom, reading quietly. He'd have to get out to go to the staff Christmas feast soon, but for now he was content to sit alone with his photo of Lily on the mantle, reading a potions periodical. "Don't know why everyone makes such a fuss about today anyway," the old grinchy potions master muttered._


	20. Chapter 19

Chapter 19: Constant Vigilance

There was a subdued air about Platform 9 ¾ as Harry, his family, and the Granger's stepped through the portal. Families were in tight clusters, saying goodbye one last time before the semester began.

"There's Ron," Harry said, keeping his voice low to match the serious air. "Come on Hermione, Becky, we should go say hello."

Ron saw Harry coming and broke away from one of his tall older brothers to wave at his friends. He ran over, but stopped a few feet away from Harry. The two boys stood awkwardly for a moment, before Harry managed, "So, how was Christmas?"

"Pretty good," Ron said, a grin spread across his face. "I got this." He held up a new looking broom stick, and Harry made appreciative noises. "Signed by all the Chudley Cannons! It's a Cleansweep 10, lastest model." Harry tried not to remark on the fact that faint tremors were visible in Ron's hand. At least Ron looked healthy enough. "Thanks for the game boy. I had to leave it at home. My dad's mental about it, but he's rubbish at the games. Can't really figure out the buttons."

Harry glanced over at his sister and the two other girls, who were having a quiet conversation off to the side. "How's Neville? Did you see him?"

"He was pretty bad," Ron said quietly. "Worse off than me. Fall broke his back. He was on skelegrow for weeks. Not to mention…." Ron held up his hand, which was still trembling slightly. "Still dealing with this. Healers said it should vanish in a few months. I hope so, I want to try out for the quidditch team in a few years."

"At least you survived."

Ron looked faintly ill, but he nodded. "Yeah."

The awkward silence was broken by the girls coming back over. Ron and Hermione chatted a bit about their holidays. "You're going to have to train with us Ron," Hermione said with a slightly vindictive air. "If I'm going to have to get up at an ungodly hour and run, you will too."

"What the bloody hell would I want to do that for?" Ron demanded, looking aghast at the suggestion.

"It's physical training," Harry explained. "To help prepare you for combat. Give you a better chance of survival in case, you know…."

"We'll join in too, Harry," Percy said, coming over with Fred and George. "What sort of training do you have in mind?"

"Basic stuff really. Run a few kilometers, push ups, sit ups, jumping stars, a few basic martial arts routines, practice with our wands on all the DADA stuff. Hopefully we don't have a rubbish teacher for all that now."

"It would have been helpful to be able to run a bit faster," Ron agreed. "I'm in. Besides, it would be good training for quidditch later."

"Yeah," Harry rubbed the back of his head. "I might drop out of the team."

"WHAT!" Ron looked aghast. "How could you do that, Harry?"

"Well, I was just thinking, if I'd spent a bit more time practicing and exercising and a bit less time playing silly games…"

"Mate, you can't stop playing quidditch," Ron said firmly. "If you do, the bad guys win."

Harry looked slightly relieved. "If you really think so…."

"We're not quitting the team," Fred and George declared in unison. "Dead useful, being able to hit old Moldy-pants with a bludger."

"And broom flying is a very useful skill," Percy agreed. The other boys looked at him with faint expressions of shock. Percy huffed and drew himself up. "I've decided that I'm going to focus more on important things. Broom flying could be useful if you need to escape or fight in the air. I still want a position in the ministry, but maybe something a bit more focused on protecting people. We always need more men in the DMLE."

"You want to be an auror, Perce?" Fred asked, a look of dawning horror on his face.

"We'd never get away with anything ever again," George groaned.

Percy shook his head. "Nothing like that. But maybe a public prosecutor or an inspector. They help fight the Dark Arts too, in their own way. Even dad helps protect people."

The twins look relieved at their brother wasn't going to become a copper, and excused themselves to load their trunks. The others all said goodbye to their parents, and Harry looked around for Neville.

"Where's Neville? He's going to miss the train."

"There, I see him!" Hermione cried, and sure enough, next to a woman dressed in a colorful hat topped with a stuffed toucan came Neville. He was walking with a cane as a wizard with a wild beard dragged an enormous trunk. Harry, Ron and Hermione ran over to help Neville as the whistle sounded for departure.

"Thanks," Neville panted, his face red with exertion and embarrassment.

"No problem mate," Harry assured him, taking the trunk from the wizard who had introduced himself as Algie. "Come on, let's find a compartment."

Everyone hurried onto the train, and Harry and the others were ushered into two combined compartments with the Gryffindor quidditch team.

"Can't have you go wandering around on your own, Harry," Oliver said, looking up and down the corridor. "Katie heard some of the older Slytherins muttering about going after you and your friends. It was the usual crowd, young McNair and Flint. Their families all have connections to You-Know-Who."

"They try anything and I'll hex their hair our," vowed Angeline, one of the chasers. The other two girls nodded their agreement, their wands in their laps or hands, on the lookout for any trouble.

"You'll be safe enough for now," Oliver agreed. "But we'll have to keep an eye on you Harry. Won't do for you to get ambushed in the corridors."

"We'll be with him," Hermione assured Oliver, for once not complaining about anyone being Quidditch obsessed. "Our parents were very firm that we were not to go anywhere alone for any reason."

"Too right," Fred agreed. "And Oliver, you should think about joining us for training."

"Training?" Oliver asked, brightening at the suggestion.

Harry explained the basic idea, pitching it all as a quidditch strengthening exercise that had the bonus of getting them ready to face down dark wizards.

"We should throw in some broom practice," Katie commented. "And focus on a few things that aren't as useful on the pitch, like keeping hidden while flying or aerial dueling."

"This is starting to sound like a school club," Hermione observed. "Do you think we could get one of the teachers to sponsor it? Then we could open it up to the others houses."

Oliver looked unsure at that idea. "I don't know, that would throw away the advantage we'd get from the extra training."

"The other kids are in just as much danger," Neville told Oliver, a fierce expression on his face. "What if next time the Dark Lord attacks Harry is with some Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws? They'd be in danger too."

"Just as long as the snakes don't get in on this," Alicia said firmly. The other two chasers nodded in agreement.

Hermione looked like she wanted to protest, but just then Draco, Crabbe and Goyle marched by. They took one look into the two combined compartments full of older Gryffindor's who were all fingering their wands, and kept right on going. "Maybe that's for the best," Hermione reluctantly agreed.

"We'll take anyone who vows to fight Voldemort," Harry declared. All the older students flinched, and Ron looked rather uncomfortable.

"Do you really think it's wise to say his name?" Katie asked, looking around as if she was worried that Voldemort would return at the sound of his name.

"I think it's stupid not too," Harry said. "But if it makes you feel better we can call him Darth Stupidus."

"What's a darth?" Alicia asked.

Katie rolled her eyes. "Honestly Harry, that's going to go right over everyone else's head. If my dad wasn't a muggle I wouldn't even know."

"It's a reference to Darth Vader, who was the Dark Lord of the Sith in a muggle movie. He was an evil sorcerer who helped destroy the good wizards, but was defeated by Luke Skywalker who became the last of the good wizards after training with the only two remaining good wizards in the galaxy," Hermione explained.

"'Luke I am your father,'"Harry quipped.

"Vader was Luke's dad? That doesn't make any sense," Oliver said. "But we can say Darth Stupidus. Rolls off the tongue better than You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Hey, do you think we could get lightsabers?" Katie asked brightly. "I won't lie, I've always wanted one. But I think mine should be red. Green seems like a much more sensible color for the bad guys anyway."

"How would you even go making one?" Harry wondered. "It would have to be a sword made of light you could turn on and off that could cut through anything and deflect spells."

"That sounds interesting," George commented.

Fred nodded. "Yeah, tell us more about these lightsabers. Do muggles have them?"

The rest of the train ride was spent expanding on the Star Wars universe and lightsabers, the concept of which fascinated all of the wizard born students.

Back at the castle, an assembly was held in the great hall. The banners were all black, and each was embroidered with the names of the fallen. As the students filed in, they were checked over by a teenaged which with spiky pink hair and dark sunglasses, as well as a frightening looking old wizard with a spinning glass eye and a false leg.

"That's Mad Eye Moody!" Ron whispered. "He's a friend of dads. He's an auror, one of the best. I thought he was retired by now though."

"Wotcher, Oliver," the pink haired teen greeted the group as they moved into the hall.

"Hey Tonks, what are you doing back here? Didn't you graduate last year?"

"Too right I did. I'm an apprentice auror now. I'm with the creepy looking old bloke over there. He's not a bad sort though. Just a moment, I have to check you lot with this sneaker scope. See if anything's odd about you."

There was a furious squeaking from Ron's pocket, and he gasped and pulled out Scabbers, who was twisting furiously. "He bit me!" he dropped the rat, which started to flee.

"STUPIFY!" Bellowed Tonks, and Scabbers froze. She then lifted her wand and shot off sparks as the odd looking device in her hands spun and flashed. "We've got an alert, all students halt!"

In a moment, professor Flitwick was there with Tonks, his own wand out. "What is it?" the short charms teacher demanded.

"Scope went all hinky, then this rat here bit his owner and ran off. He usually do that kid?" Tonks asked Ron.

"No," Ron said, sucking at his fingers where Scabbers had bitten him. "He's usually very friendly."

"My my my," Flitwick murmured. "Alastor! Come here a moment."

Mad-Eye stomped over, his own wand out. "What is it, Filius?"

"There is something very odd about this rat," Flitwick murmured, passing his wand over the twitching pet. "In fact, I rather suspect that this is no rat at all."

"Bloody hell, that's an animagus that is!" Tonks hair had gone white, and she passed her sunglasses to Flitwick. "Here, take a look."

"Hmmm, hmm, yes, yes I see. Very clever, these. Who made them?"

"Made them myself! Alright, all you lot, step back!" Tonk's said, pushing the students away from the circle. "This is auror business now."

" _Homorphus!_ " barked Flitwick, and the rat suddenly shivered and changed into a man in a shabby looking robe.

"Bloody buggering hell!" Ron swore, paling and collapsing into Fred and George's arms. The twins passed their brother to Harry and Neville, then ran past Tonks and began kicking at the still stunned man.

"You bastard!" Fred roared.

"You slept in our brothers bed!" George snarled.

"Fred, George, enough!" Percy barked, grabbing his brothers along with Tonk's and forcing them back.

"Thanks Percy," Tonks said. "See they did right in making you prefect."

"Here, hold this," Percy said, handing Tonks his badge. She locked confused, until Percy drew his wand and began furiously hexing the twitching man.

"Percy!" Tonk's gasped, dropping the prefect badge and trying to stop him.

"That's enough lad," Mad Eye growled, flicking his wand towards Percy.

With one final hex that caused the man to begin vomiting slugs, Percy snarled, "You were my pet rat! I gave you to my little brother! You freak!"

"Who is that?" Harry asked, looking curiously at the man who was now covered in bruises, circled by bat-boogies, and vomiting slugs.

Flitwick calmly levitated the prefect badge into his hand, polishing it on his robes absently. "That would be Peter Pettigrew. Which is most odd, because he is supposed to be rather dead at the moment." He stepped forward and held out the badge to the still furious Percy. "I believe this is yours, young man."

Percy looked at the badge, then at Professor Flitwick. "You mean, after I did all that, you still want me to keep it?"

"Young man, after that display, I know you deserve it," Flitwick said with feeling. Percy gratefully accepted the badge, then stepped back and hugged Ron, who was still goggling at Pettigrew.

"Merlin's poxied nose, this is going to be so much paperwork," Moody growled. He looked up at Tonks. "Go get Dumbledore. This is over my pay grade."

"You got it boss." Tonks dashed off to find the headmaster.

"Right, you lot, orderly line. We'll be checking all of you twice now," Moody growled. "And if you have any more pets, there will be a mandatory check for them. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

The Great Hall was in an uproar as the students all discussed the discovery of the hidden spy in their midst. One of the Ravenclaws was loudly yelling that he had seen a Dark Mark on Pettigrew's arm when he'd been levitated off into custody by Mad-Eye and Dumbledore. The professors were keeping order, but doing nothing to quiet the speculation. They all appeared to be in a state of shock themselves. Especially Snape, who was in rare form, stalking up and down the aisles and threatening anyone who even looked like they were getting out of line with detentions for the rest of the year.

Finally, the Headmaster and Mad-Eye returned, and the hall fell silent and Dumbledore stood, raising his hands as he waited to speak.

"Well, that was a rather more exciting start of term than I would have like," the headmaster said. There were a few quiet giggles, but most stayed quiet, listening to the rest of what Dumbledore had to say. "As I am sure you are now all aware of, Peter Pettigrew, the previously believed dead martyr of the last wizarding war was found disguised as a pet rat."

"I'll bloody kill him!" Ron shouted, standing on the table with his wand out. His brothers, the quidditch team, and Harry, Neville and Hermione were all soon standing as well, wands drawn. After a brief hesitation, the rest of the Gryffindor table and Professor McGonagall stood as well.

Dumbledore motioned them to be seated. "Mr. Pettigrew is now in the custody of the Ministry. His fate is now in the minister's hand. I must keep this brief, for I will be required to give testimony. Your statement and those of your brothers will be taken after dinner, Young Master Weasley."

Grumbling, the Gryffindor's all sat, though few of them put away their wands. "Now, as to the rest of the announcements. First, a brief moment of silence. Many of you were at the memorial service for Madam Pomfrey, Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnigan. Please take the next minute to honor their deaths in the way you best see fit, but do so in reverent silence."

Heads were bowed, and silence descended on the room. More than a few muffled sobs could be heard, and very few eyes were totally dry. While few had known the first year Gryffindor's well, Madam Pomfrey was beloved by all. Even the Slytherins look rather mournful, and their table was perhaps the most silent of all.

Once the minute was up, Dumbledore raised his own head, his face wet with tears. "Thank you," he said, his voice raw. "I myself cannot help but feel terribly guilty that all this has happened. I promise that every effort will be taken to ensure the safety of all students. The third floor corridor is once more open to passage, and will no longer cause a most painful death if you explore it. However, I would like to mention that it would be foolish to spend too much time there, as it's secrets and guardians are now gone. In other news, Professor Kettleburn has acquired a cerberus, which the NEWT level care of magical creatures class will be learning to care for, and Professor McGonagall has installed a life sized chess set in one of the empty classrooms for those who would enjoy a bracing game at full scale."

That brought a few mutters, but the room quickly quieted again. "I would also like to announce a few staff changes. Sadly, as you all know, several changes were forced to be made. I shall announce the most painful first; Madam Wainscott will be taking over as medical matron here at Hogwarts."

There was subdued polite applause as the motherly looking witch stood and bowed. She didn't look pleased to have gained her position in such a way, but no one blamed her.

"Secondly, I regret to announce the retirement of Argus Filch as-"

There was a roaring cheer as several students stood and began celebrating. Peeves the Poltergeist appeared and set off several fireworks, before swooping down and doing and Irish Jig with Fred and George on the top of the Gryffindor table. It took several minutes for Dumbledore to calm everyone down, and a rough looking man with red hair in an oilskin cloak had to come and tell off Peeves before dragging Fred and George back down by their ears. He then glared around at everyone before stalking up to the staff table and sitting back down.

"That's Sergeant Prewitt!" Harry gasped, causing several Gryffindors to turn and look at him in shock.

"My I introduce Charles Prewitt, our new groundskeeper. Mr. Prewitt has a great deal of experience dealing with troublemakers from his time in the muggle military, and has assured me that while he takes no joy in clapping students in irons, he will brook no funny business."

"And I know all my young cousins tricks! I've written your mum and she's told me everything!" Prewitt shouted, glaring down at Fred and George. The twins looked completely abashed, and slipped under the table to avoid the laughter and jeers being directed their way.

"Now, I-" Dumbledore began after quieting everyone again, but was interrupted when Fred and George suddenly reappeared and launched two large rockets into the air, which exploded and left glowing words that read, "Welcome Cousin Prewitt," and "Mum didn't tell you all our tricks." The twins stood and bowed, and Prewitt stood and applauded, before pointing at the two boys. "Right, that's a week's worth of detentions helping me."

Fred and George nodded their agreement, then sat back down to laughter and cheers, this time with them, not at them. They smiled as the world returned to normal, and waved at their adoring fans.

Dumbledore leaned on his podium, his eyes twinkling merrily. "Normally I would be averse to such interruptions, but I cannot help but feel that a good laugh is just what we all needed. On a more serious note, to replace our departed Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, who was indeed possessed by the spirit of Lord Voldemort-" there was no laughter now, a sick silence having descended on the hall. "I present our two new Defense Against the Dark Arts Interim Professors and Hogwarts Security team, Professors Tonks and Moody."

"Oi, Ceddy, guess who your new professor is now?" Tonks called, pointing at a handsome looking Hufflepuff boy. "Badgers forever!"

The Hufflepuff table erupted in cheers and jeers, laughing and clapping for Tonks, who bowed and turned her hair stripy yellow and black.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Moody bellowed, his voice magically amplified to fill the whole Great Hall. Everyone jumped, and looked at Moody in astonishment. The magical eye spun as Moody stomped up to the lectern, which Dumbledore had stepped aside from. "From now on, I expect nothing less than absolute, constant vigilance from each and every one of you!" Moody growled.

"First He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself was capering about your school and killed three people and put two others in Saint Mungos! Secondly, a bloody rat animagus was skulking around her for what, five years? That is unacceptable!" Moody glared around the room as every eye fixed upon his wildly spinning own orb. "This could be prevented if each and every one of you had taken his or her duty to be constantly vigilant for any dark magic or suspicious activity!"

Behind Moody, Tonks took up a serious pose. Her hair had gone a business like mousy brown color, and she hand her hands clasped in front of her as her sunglasses scanned the room. Harry thought she looked rather like one of those rather dangerous bodyguards in movies.

"I will be personally educating those of you at OWL level or higher on the more advanced parts of defense against the dark arts. We have a whole year to do in one term, and I will not let a single one of you leave my classroom until you are ready for the storm that is coming. The Dark Lord is back, and the war will resume at any moment now. To survive you must practice CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" with that, Moody turned the lectern over to Tonks, who took off her sunglasses and smiled at everyone.

"Right, so I'm the new professor for all you little ankle bitters yeah? Names Tonks, or Professor, but don't ask my first name because I haven't got one."

"If you say so, Nymphadora!" Called a voice from the Hufflepuff table.

"Oi, that's a point from Hufflepuff!" Tonks snapped, though she was still grinning. "Anywho, while I might not seem as crotchety as the boss here," Moody harrumphed loudly, but a faint smile appeared on his lips. "I also am not about to let any of you off easy. This is bloody serious you lot, and while I might not be the most dignified of professors to ever grace these halls, you can bet your last knut that when you leave at the end of the year I'll have taught you everything I can so you too can be constantly vigilant. Right, you lot got that then? Two points to Hufflepuff, because we're just awesome like that." Tonk's retreated to cheers from the badgers and cries of despair from the eagles, though she didn't seem to pay any heed to any of it.

Dumbledore returned to the lectern and waved his wand, and the feast appeared to the satisfaction of everyone.

"Oi, Harry, you know our squib cousin?" Ron whispered to Harry as he reached for fried chicken.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, that's Sergeant Prewitt. He worked with my dad. I wonder what he's doing here?"

"He's a squib?" one of the older Gryffindor's said in shock.

Percy silenced everyone at the table with a glare. "He's family. And in case you haven't noticed, the Weasley family sticks together. Even with family that's a squib. Any of you with a problem with that, you can take it up with me."

"Relax Percy," Oliver said. "What do we look like, a bunch of Slytherins?"

Later that night, Ron, Harry, and Neville were rather reluctant to go up to their dorm, fidgeting the the common room long after everyone else had gone to their beds. "It won't be the same, you know," Ron said, looking up the stairs.

Harry nodded, looking into the fireplace. "Yeah. Doesn't seem right somehow."

Neville was silent, fidgeting with Trevor in his lap. Finally, he stood and nodded up the stairs, and Harry and Ron followed after. Dean and Seamus' beds had been removed, and the dorm somehow felt empty without their beds present. Ron walked over to his trunk, rummaged around a bit, and pulled out the Westham Football Club poster.

"Help me put this up, will you?"

Harry helped Ron stick up the poster, while Neville lay on his bed, looking at the poster that now hung over Ron's bed. "Didn't know you were a fan, Ron," Harry commented.

"I wasn't," Ron admitted. "Dean's parents sent it to me. I thought, you know, I could maybe learn it sometime."

"I could teach you," Harry offered.

"I'd like to learn," Neville said quietly. Ron nodded his agreement, and Harry and Ron sat down on Neville's bed.

"It could have been me." Ron looked at his two friends and swallowed. "He...he tried to kill me, you know. McGonagle blocked his spell at the last moment. I was this close…."

"Tried to kill me too. You saved my life, Ron. I know I've already said it, but thanks."

Ron nodded, and Harry pulled his pistol out from under his robes. He pulled a cleaning kit out of his trunk and disassembled the pistol, oiling and inspecting each part in turn. Ron and Neville watched in fascination.

"Think we could get one of those?" Neville asked wistfully.

"You'd have to learn how to use it first. Start with the physical training and martial arts. If you do well enough at that, I'll talk to my parents about finding a way to sneak you off during the holidays and teaching you how to use a gun. They're dangerous, you know. Like wands. If used properly they're brilliant tools that can keep you and your loved ones safe, but if you treat them like a toy they can kill you or someone you care about."

Nodding at the gun, Ron said, "I'd take anything that could help me protect my mates."

 _Authors Note:_

 _Press "A" to skip the next two books plot lines?_


	21. Chapter 20

_Chapter 20: A Black Day_

The night was dark, and full of terrors. A black dog lay in a cold bare cell, shivering and whining softly as it tried to sleep. It was emaciated, with a mangy coat and eyes that had an all too human look of despair and hopelessness. Not because of the spectral jailers that haunted the halls of Azkaban prison, but because of the memories the dog continually relived, even though the dementors could not touch it in this form.

 _The house was quiet, the front door shattered and the living room a mess. James lay on the floor, glasses askew on his face, as he stared up at the ceiling. Upstairs, Lily was spread eagled before the crib, her arms open wide as her eyes looked into the blackness of eternity. The baby in the crib wailed until he picked it up, crying as he bounced the boy in his arms to try and soothe him. He was late, too late, and it was all his fault. There could be only one explanation. Peter. Peter had betrayed them all._

 _There was a noise downstairs, and with a snarl he drew his wand, hoping that somehow he could extract enough revenge to pay for the pain he felt inside. But there were no death eaters, only Hagrid._

 _Take Harry, Hagrid. I have to fix this._

The dog shivered again, whining softly. He hadn't fixed it. Killing Peter hadn't been enough. They had dragged him off to Azkaban, and he hadn't protested. After all, what was the point in living? His best friend was dead, Lily was dead, and it was all his fault. He belonged her just as much as anyone else.

There was the sound of boots and a whiff of human scent, and the ragged dog became a ragged man. He picked up the tattered blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders, crawling into a corner as the door swung open. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the light that blinded him as men strode into the cell.

"Sirius, my boy. I am so sorry."

He blinked his eyes open, looking up at the mournful face behind the half-moon spectacles. "Headmaster?" his voice was ragged. He hadn't spoken in...he didn't know. When was the last time he had spoken?

"Here, my boy, chocolate. Eat, please. We're taking you away."

"But I killed James," Sirius mumbled as he shoved the sweets into his mouth, barely chewing before he swallowed. "He's dead, and it's all my fault."

"See, he belongs here after all, Albus! He admits he told You-Know-Who the secret and-"

In a flash he was across the room, his hands wrapping around the neck, the green bowler hat tumbling to the floor.

"I would have died!" he roared. "I would have died before I told anyone the secret! James was my brother, and...and it was all my fault." Strong hands yanked him off of the sputtering fool at his feet. Who this idiot was, he didn't know. He let himself be yanked, wishing only to be left alone, to be left to his grief and memories. He wept openly, staring at the blank wall, but not seeing it. "At least I got the rat bastard."

"No, Sirius." It was Dumbledore again, motioning aside the two men and putting a hand on Sirius' shoulder. "Peter is alive. He was at Hogwarts, with one of Harry's friends. We believe he may have been spying on-"

"Alive?" Sirius looked up, grabbing on to the headmaster's arm, his eyes wild. "He's alive? But I killed him. I didn't mean to blow him up like that, but I must have. I got him, the little coward is dead. I made him pay for what he did, for betraying James. It was my fault, all my fault for letting him be keeper, but I made him pay, oh yes, I made him pay."

"He's mad," one of the other men muttered.

Sirius spat in his face. "Go to hell Dawlish, you prick."

"We'll get nothing useful until he's away from the Dementors," Dumbledore said firmly. "Come, Sirius. We're taking you to the ministry for questioning there."

Sirius let himself be led away, not certain if this was all real or not. It wasn't until the presence of the dementors faded, until he was in a DMLE holding room, being given chocolate and hot soup that he broke down and wept, crying that he deserved Azkaban for leading James to his death, that he had to kill Peter, and then they could take him back.

But first, he would kill Peter. It was only fair. Blood for blood. The law of the pack.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

The day after the students returned dawned cold and clear, with a few feet of snow still hanging round. Still, Hermione found herself rousted out of bed and an ungodly early hour by Katie, Alicia and Angelina. After dressing in warm clothes, she found the boys all waiting in the common room. Harry and Oliver looked determined, though the rest of the boys looked varying degrees of sleepy and grumpy. They all trooped down the halls together and out to the quidditch pitch, where Harry led everyone in basic warming exercises and stretches, then led them on a brisk 2k run around the pitch, while in the background Hermione saw Hagrid sitting outside his cottage, staring at the odd show.

To no one's surprise, Oliver and Harry took the lead, keeping a steady pace and trailed by Ron, Fred, George, and the three chasers. Hermione and Neville were trailing at the end, but Percy stayed behind them, wordlessly encouraging the two first years not to give up. Neville struggled, limping along with a grimace of pain on his face, and Hermione stayed with him, knowing it all hurt him a whole lot more than it did her. In the end, Neville had to bow out after one lap, his body still not healed enough for the exertion.

To Hermione's surprise, when they finished Mr. Prewitt was waiting for them, dressed in a jogging suit. "Right, that wasn't bad for a bunch of kids. First day's usually pretty easy. It's coming back on the second day that's going to be hard. Don't give up though, all worth it in the end. Right, push ups now you lot."

Hermione followed the new caretaker's instructions, eyeing the man. Unlike Filch who was not only filthy but also rather scrawny and haggard, Mr. Prewitt looked to be the picture of health. He was in his early 30s and well muscled, his red hair cropped short and the beginnings of a beard on his face. He assisted Neville through the exercise, encouraging the boy to do his best, and then helping him to lay down to rest when the strain got to be too much.

"Very good, very good," Mr. Prewitt said once everyone had finished their exercise. "Now double time it to the Great Hall, they should just be serving breakfast. Same time tomorrow, I expect that's when we'll separate the lions from the lambs, eh?"

Though she was exhausted, Hermione forced herself to eat at breakfast, sticking with hot tea and porridge to warm herself up from the fridge air outside. The few students who had already been at breakfast, mostly Ravenclaws, gave the group of Gryffindor's odd looks, as well as the wizarding group giving Mr. Prewitt's jogging suit naked stares.

"I thought that went really well," Harry said brightly as they dug in to breakfast. "If we keep that up everyday we'll all be fighting fit in no time."

"I'm not so sure this was a good idea," groaned Katie. "I've got loads of classes today and I'm going to be exhausted."

"It will be worth it if you find yourself face to face with Voldemort," Neville said quietly. Everyone else at the table fell silent, looking at the slightly less chubby boy with the cane. Neville sat quietly, sipping at his hot cocoa, lost in his own thoughts.

Harry cleared his throat. "Too right. Plus, we'll demolish Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff."

"Who's banging on my 'puffs?" A cheery voice demanded, and the students looked up to find Tonks grinning at them. "Heard you lot were up early, boss had me on morning patrol. What were you doing, running about like that?"

"Fitness training," Harry explained. "So we're ready in case another dark wizard attacks. And so we crush Hufflepuff in our match in May."

"That's months away though," Tonks said, looking at Harry oddly. "And I'm not sure that doing laps around the field is on the DADA curriculum."

"Maybe it should be," a new voice snarled, and everyone jumped as Mad-Eye stomped towards Tonks. "Physical fitness is a key part of becoming a good auror. You know that, Recruit Tonks."

"Oi, I'm Professor Tonks now, same as you Professor Boss," Tonks declared, standing up a little straighter as her hair went an impressive shade of sunshine yellow.

"Hmph. Still, you could take a leaf out of these sprogs books," Moody growled, then hobbled off to the staff table where he glared at his goblet, and then reached for his hip flask and took a swig.

"He's mental," Ron muttered.

"To right," Tonks agreed. "But he's the boss. See you lot in classes later. 'cept you, Wood, Percy. Good luck, you're with the boss today."

"I'm looking forward to it," Percy declared with verve.

Tonks winked and him and skipped up to the table, where she had no problem drinking from her goblet, despite glares from Moody.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

When Percy walked into the empty new DADA classroom, he was too busy talking to Penelope to really notice that their was no professor at the front of the classroom. Once everyone had taken their seats, Percy had just started to take out quill and ink when there was a loud bang from the corner.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Ink spilled everywhere, and Percy swore as he jerked his wand out and pointed it to where the bang had originated from. It flew from his hand as did several other wands. With a bellow, Percy dashed towards the figure, seeing only the glowing red eyes in the smoke. He wasn't going to stand aside this time, not and let another dark wizard hurt his family. He swung his fists into the smoke, only to find himself knocked head over heels and go sprawling on the floor. Instead of lying there, Percy tried to roll to the side, scrabbling for something to use as a weapon. He found his fallen ink pot, and hurled it into the smoke. It was shattered with a bang, and Percy found himself levitated and held in mid air. He glared at the smoke, which vanished to reveal…

A dark robe with two glowing remembralls where the eyes should be? Percy blinked in confusion.

"Not bad, Weasley. Didn't figure out where I was, but at least you made an effort."

Percy tried to spin around, but was unceremoniously dropped. He landed hard on the seat of his pants, groaned and stood to find Professor Moody right at the front of the room.

"How did you-"

"Disillusioned myself. Didn't do a proper job of it either. You should have noticed the faint shimmer in the air. But none of you did because you were not practicing CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Percy sat down in his seat as Moody began to pace the front of the room, his magical eye spinning madly in its socket. "I've read your essays you turned into that monster. I've looked at the lesson plans. Weasley, you had good grades."

Percy started to smile, until the magical eye spun and glared and him.

"AND NONE OF THAT MEANS A BLOODY THING IN THE REAL WORLD!" He pointed his finger at Penelope. "Your girlfriend there was smarter than you. She started casting protective charms and looking for where I really was. I didn't have her fooled for long. You rushed straight into the killing zone like a moron and triggered all the defensive charms I'd placed. What. An. Idiot."

Percy paled and looked down at his boots.

"You've all got a lot to learn this year," Moody declared as he stood in place. He flicked his wand at the blackboard, which showed several advanced curses and counter curses. "I'm not a big believer in text books. They're all well and good for theory, but theory tends to fall apart fast on the battlefield." Moody noticed one of the hufflepuff boys dutifully copying down his notes, and began to stalk towards him in surprising silence. "Plus, if you have your nose buried in a book, it's pretty easy to sneak up on you because you aren't practicing CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

The boy fell out of his desk, ink spilling all over his notes. "Clean that up," Moody growled, then hobbled back up front. "Right. Two things were working on today. Hominum Revelo, and the counter charm. The revelo is good for finding out of someone's waiting to ambush you, like I was, and the counter is a good way of preventing someone from sniffing you out when you don't want to be found. You perform them like so." Moody demonstrated the charm and counter twice.

"Right. Gryffindors against Hufflepuffs. You will practice the revelo and its counter. I've got this whole corridor cleared out. The Gryffindors will hide first, Hufflepuffs seek, then switch. The house that does the best at hiding gets 10 points, same for seeking. A bonus five if your house succeeds the best at both tasks. If you are terrible at hiding and seeking, your homework will be to practice until you get it right. Don't skive off, because I'll bloody well be testing you. Begin!"

The rest of the period was spent in frantic searching and hiding. They managed two rounds, with Gryffindor proving much better at seeking, and the 'puffs squeezing out wins both times at hiding. Moody informed both groups that they had better team up after class and learn how to hide and seek properly. "Knowing how to find what is hidden and remain hidden from those that want to find you are both vital survival tactics. Saved my skin more than once, I can tell you that. Tomorrow I'll test you once more, and we'll see if you can manage to impress me. And remember-"

"Constant Vigilance," the students intoned.

"Bloody right. Dismissed!"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

As the last class of the day was DADA for the first years, they were all rather excited to see what classes would be like with Tonks as teacher. When they walked in with the Slytherins, the front of the class stood vacant, with no professor visible. The students sat at their desks expectantly, looking around.

"Hey, Hannah, what are you doing here?" Neville asked suddenly, looking at the first year Hufflepuff who'd come in quietly with the rest of them and sat the back of the class. "Don't you have transfiguration now?"

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Hannah shouted, leaping to the front of the class as she set off sparklers with her wand. The room filled with smoke and loud bangs, and the Slytherins dived under their desks. Harry tackled Hannah with Ron's help, and Hermione and Neville drew their wands and pointed them at the oddly acting Hufflepuff student.

"Oof. Alright, alright, you pass you pass. Five points to Gryffindor if you gerroff me." Hannah squeaked. She suddenly grew much larger, her hair changing to a bright pink.

"Professor!" Hermione gasped in horror, as Harry and Ron quickly stood and got off of the staff member they'd just assaulted.

"Not bad, not bad," Tonks said happily. "The second year 'puffs and 'claws didn't do nearly so well earlier." She clapped her hands and smiled at the students. "As you all know, I'm Professor Tonks, and I'm here to help you practice constant vigilance. Harry, you and your mates did a pretty good job. Top marks for Neville for noticing me. Pavarti and Lavender, at least you had the sense to get your wands out, even if you didn't do anything. But you lot!" Tonks turned to the Slytherins. "Cowering and hiding is pointless! At least have the sense to run, even if that won't get you very far most of the time, it's action. And in a survival situation, action is what will save your life dontcha know. So, I think that should be ten points for Neville, and one point for Hermione, Lavender and Pavarti, and five points for Harry and Ron to split."

Tonks turned and sat on her desk, smiling at the students as she kicked her legs, causing her robs to flutter. "Right then, time to find out what you lot know. First year DADA lessons are supposed to cover basic defensive hexes and counter curses. Show me what you know. Whose first? Yeah, you Granger. Come on up."

Hermione demonstrated a good lumos charm and the nox counter, then Tonks had her sit back down. Pavarti showed how to do and undo a full body bind curse, though she admitted that was because she and Lavender had been using it for pranks on each other and not because it was something professor Quirrell had taught them. Malfoy proudly showed off several curses and hexes that he knew, which earned him a point from Tonks. "Don't underestimate taking to offensive," Tonks lectured. "If you hex first when someone is after you, that might save you a lot of trouble down the line. Anything else?"

Everyone managed to show off one or two hexes or counter curses, even Crabb and Goyle. At the of the period end, Tonks nodded. "It's not bad. Realistically you should all know a whole lot more, but I have a feeling that's not due to talent so much as it is having a teacher who was actively trying to sabotage you. Read up on chapter two tonight, and tomorrow be prepared for a practicum on basic counter curses against simple hexes and jinxes. Right, off you go, I'm hungry!"

As the students walked to dinner, the Gryffindor's clustered together, Pavarti and Lavender joining with Harry's usual group. "That was loads better than any DADA lesson we've had before," Pavarti remarked.

"I think I may have actually learned something, seeing all those curses and jinxes and their counters," Ron said. "That bastard never really taught us anything."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I think Tonks is brilliant. Glad we have her instead of Mad-Eye. She's nice, and he's creepy."

"I'm sure Professor Moody has a lot to pass on to us," Hermione said, putting her nose in the air.

"Oh come off it Hermione," Lavender snorted. "Maybe he's a brilliant auror, but do you really think he has what it takes to teach? Always stomping around on that peg leg of his, magical eye glaring at everyone."

Ron shrugged. "I'll ask Percy at dinner. He had Moody today. I bet it's interesting at least, learning from a real war hero. I'm a bit disappointed he isn't our teacher."

At supper, the students swapped stories about their experiences in DADA lessons.

"Moody was unorthodox, but I can see how he got results in the field," Percy observed.

"Tonks was great! She disguised herself as Hannah and snuck into class with us. Must be dead useful to be a metamorphmagus like here," Harry said.

"I think I learned more in class today from Tonks having us demonstrate the curses and counters we were each good at than I did from all of Quirrell's stuttering last term," Hermione declared, clearly pleased that they had such a capable professor.

Oliver laughed and shook his head. "Tonks was always doing that to play jokes on people last year. She snuck into each and every common room that way at least once. I think the Slytherins almost murdered her, her dad's a muggleborn who married a pureblood, you know."

"Why does that even matter?" Harry grumbled.

Percy put a calming hand on the younger boys shoulder. "It doesn't, Harry. But some people think it does. And that's why we had the war last time."


	22. Chapter 21

_Chapter 21: In the Mind's Eye_

"Professor." Charles nodded to Snape as the man entered his office. He had been just about to step out to head for bed, but he sat back down at his desk. "What can I do for you, sir?"

"That remains to be seen," Snape said silkily, closing the door behind him. He sat down uninvited across from Charles, and locked eyes with the Sergeant.

Charles didn't blink, refusing to be cowed by this maggie bastard. He supposed Snape was hardly the worst of the lot; after all he'd helped to save Harry and given him some guidance, but he didn't trust the greasy git.

"You know, you're not the first person to think of me as that, and I must say the lack of trust is rather heartening."

Charles blinked. Had he said that outloud? He was getting a headache, but he didn't break the gaze. "No offence, Professor. It's just as a squib, I've had a hard time finding acceptance in the magical world."

"Indeed. Still, I suppose you must have fit in amongst the muggles. After all, why would they send you here to spy if they did not have faith in you?"

Charles was on his feet and leaping across the table, reaching for his knife as he went.

" _Levicorpus_!"

Before he could reach Snape, Charles was upside down, suspended in the air. He glared down at the smirking potions professor. "You're not getting anything out of me, you git. Do whatever you like, but Dumbledore trusts me and-"

"-and the Headmaster's faith is increasingly misplaced, it would seem. I suspected as much when Filch disappeared and you turned up just in time to take his place. All too convenient. True, it was plausible enough that that coward would run at the first indication of trouble, but the fact that he won the muggle lottery, which I am certain he never played, at the same time was just too easy. And then you turn up with your military record, connected to the very same unit that McAlister's father is in. And I see that you actually know Major McAlister, and are in his chain of command. All very neat, isn't it? Yes, the Headmaster was happy to take you at face value, especially when I and Mad-Eye assured him you had no connection to the Dark Lord."

"I've no loyalty to You-Know-Who. And I've sworn to help protect the students. I'm a man of my word."

"If you have no loyalty to the Dark Lord it can equally be said you have no loyalty to Dumbledore or this school. Don't lie, Sergeant. I believe that honesty between us is simply going to be a must in our relationship. Now, I am going to let you down. I will set aside my wand, and you will set aside your knife and not take out the pistol, rifle, grenades, and...mines? A rocket launcher? What exactly sort of trouble do you think you'll encounter? Never mind, I suppose under the circumstance they are rather prudent. Now, do I have your word that you can discuss things with me civility, Sergeant?"

"My word," Charles said through gritted teeth. He was unceremoniously dropped to to the floor. Slowly, Snape put his wand on the desk and withdrew his hand. Charles dropped the knife, took out his pistol and dropped that as well, then sat back at his desk, eyeing Snape. "You can read minds."

"Leglimency is a rare, but useful, skill. In all of Britain I believe I am one of only three who posses the talent. The Headmaster and the Dark Lord are the other two. I will do my best to shield you and your secrets, as well as those of that idiot boy and his friend from both of them. At least for now."

Leaning back in his chair, Charles studied Snape. The man seemed to be telling the truth, but he also was obviously skilled at dissembling, so there was no telling. "What do you want, Snape?"

"I wanted to know just exactly what your plans are. You claim to want to protect the students, and I see in your mind's eye Mr. McAllister, Miss Granger, and of course your cousins when you say that, and that you mean it. But, as you must know, young Mr. McAllister is not all that he appears."

"He's the Boy-Who-Lived, isn't he? He's famous enough, and I aim to help him defeat the Dark Lord."

"Quite. In that aim, we are agreed, I assure you. However, the methods by which you intend to do so are...unorthodox."

"Speak plainly, Snape. What do you know?"

"Sergeant, at this point I have only guesses and assumptions. I guess that McAllister was sent here by the muggle government to recruit young witches and wizards to help them. I assume that this is both to safeguard their interests, and to defeat the Dark Lord upon his return. I guess that you also plan on either overthrowing or greatly changing the Statute of Secrecy. What I do not know, however, is what your long term goals are for wizarding Britain and magic at large."

Silence filled the room. Both men were eyeing each other, Charles now deliberately not looking Snape in the eye, having guessed that had something to do with the mind reading. He was thinking hard and fast. Even with all the hardware he had on hand, he was simply no match for a wizard one on one in a fight the wizard had clearly expected and planned for. If he had gotten the drop on Snape it would be a very different outcome, but that hadn't happened. True, if he got to grips with Snape he should have the other man at his mercy, but he wasn't fooled by the wand on the table. Snape was a potions master, and he surely had some concoction up his sleeve.

"I can tell you what little I know of Her Majesty's Government's ultimate aims," Charles finally said. "First, our short term goal is to infiltrate Magical Britain and discover just how far the rot goes. We know the last war was handled incompetently and that treachery and spies ran rampant, and that the conditions that enabled the last war are not gone, namely the Blood Supremacists are still around and still powerful.

"Our focus now is of course on stopping Voldemort and his supporters if they should crop up. How we shall do this is still being debated. There is always the brute force option, where we use numbers and technology to bring you maggies to heel by strength of arms. I am personally opposed to such a method, but I would carry it out if so ordered. I am in place to assassinate Dumbledore if needed."

Snape raised an eyebrow at this confession, but didn't say anything. He too was theoretically in place to assassinate Dumbledore for the Dark Lord, though is recent actions likely had blown that cover permanently.

"Our preferred method would be to recruit young wizards and enact a long term plan to bring change by influencing the youth against the prejudices of their elders and creating the political will to change policy. However, it is looking more and more like such a plan is nonviable due to the renewal of conflict in the near future. There is also the third route, which would be to allow the wizarding world to tear itself apart, then step in and seize control while dealing a death stroke to the Pureblood camp and the traditionalist isolation camp at the same time."

"Ultimately, the wizarding world cannot and will not stay hidden. Magic, it seems, has changed only a little in the last century or even millenium. There is little fundamental difference between how potions, wands, and spells are created and used today than when this school was founded. Or do you disagree, Professor?"

"There have been refinements to the art of potions to be sure, and new spells and ideas are discovered, but not major ones, no," Snape agreed. "The wizarding world attained a high level of enlightenment and sophistication some time ago, but has not significantly progressed in ages."

"The same cannot be said of the mundane world. A hundred years ago, we could not fly. Now we regularly visit space and have planes up at all times and hours. A hundred years ago, we could barely take a photo. Now we have cameras that record live video everywhere, even in space, and they are increasingly more prevalent. A hundred years ago, we had only rough maps of the earth and some places were still uncharted. Now we have satellites that are accurate to the meter that have mapped the deepest woods, tallest mountains, and even the depths of the sea. A hundred years ago, we could not communicate with someone in real time unless they were near a telegraph office. Now we have instant communication globally with wireless, satellite phones, and the developing internet. If things continue apace, in a decade we will equal every accomplishment of the wizarding world. In a century, we will have far surpassed it. How can wizards hope to remain hidden then? It is folly, and if something is not done, and soon, it will lead to your extinction. Especially if there is another war, or a regime that seeks to dominate the mundane world. We would annihilate you in spasms of fear and anger, and there would be little you could do but cower as the end came.

"On the other hand, if you came out of hiding offering help and aid, things would be very different. You have cures to diseases that have plagued humanity for ages, and while there might be resentment that you did not act sooner, there would be many grateful people who found themselves able to walk again, or cured of cancer. You could help solve the energy crisis, offer solutions to environmental woes and even help us reach for the stars. If you did that, you would be valued and praised."

Silence fell again. Snape studied Charles, his features blank. Finally, he nodded. "I see. Then you would offer us a chance to integrate willingly and as equals, or face extinction or domination?"

"That is the essence of it, yes," Charles agree. "You can obliviate me or kill me now, and do the same to everyone in Britain who is working on the plan. That will set us back to be sure, but it will generate a great deal of bad blood. It is very hard indeed to erase all knowledge of a thing once it is put onto the internet or a video of it is distributed widely. Either in Britain or elsewhere in the world, magic will come to light, and when it does it can either come as an ally or an enemy. And you do not want to be the enemy of Royal Armed Forces, or any other military on earth. It would end badly for you."

"So you truly believe you could stand up to the Dark Lord?"

"Of course. Victory would come at a great cost, especially without the aid of any maggies, sorry, wizards, of our own. But, he who dares, triumphs."

Snape stood. "It is better than the alternative. Very well, Sergeant. I will keep you and your masters informed of any plans the headmaster makes. Consider this my application as your spy. I shall aid you and the brats. In return, I ask only that you do not do anything foolish without involving me first." Before he left, Snape paused and turned around. "Oh, I should also mention: Sirius Black has been freed from Azkaban. His trial will be taking place shortly. Whatever you do, I suggest you warn McAlisters parents that someone is likely going to try to make a play for power here. The madman is McAlister's' godfather, and likely to become his legal magical guardian."

With that, Snape left, leaving a stunned Charles behind him. After a long minute, Charles reached into a cupboard and pulled out several bottles of beer. This was going to be a long night.

/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"Ron, what did you do?" Harry hissed, frantically stirring the potion, which only seemed to make it worse.

Ron flipped through the potions book, shaking his head. "I don't know, I followed the directions exactly!"

The potion bubbled, turning a sticky purple color instead of the lime green it was supposed to be. "Did you add the ground toad legs before or after the daisies?"

"After, of course! One pinch at a time, you helped me!"

Harry glanced over at Hermione and Neville, who were panicking just as badly. There potion was smoking, and Hermione was coughing as she tried to fix whatever had gone wrong with their potion. Looking back at his own cauldron, Harry leapt back, giving a cry of alarm. The bottom of the cauldron had dissolved, and sticky purple acid was eating away at the desk underneath. At the same time, Hermione wailed with alarm as her potion burst into flames. Both cauldrons tipped over, the contents leaking towards one another.

"Professor, help!" Neville yelped, trying to hobble away from the two brews. There was a bang and a flash of light as the potions met, and a putrid smell filled the classroom. Through the chaos strode Snape, vanishing the contents of both cauldrons with a wave of his wand. "That's twenty points from Gryffindor from the lot of you!" Snape snarled as he picked Neville up by his rob and flung him out of the way. "And see me after class! I believe such incompetence deserves extra work!"

The Slytherins snickered at the forlorn expressions on the four faces. Lavender and Parvati gave sympathetic looks, but had to turn back to their own potion as Snape swept through the room, glaring at the rest of the students. The four unfortunates spent the last few minutes of class desperately trying to clean up the remains of the potions mess and their caldrons, but didn't manage to make much of a dent. Snape dismissed the rest of the students, then closed the door with a bang to glower at the guilty parties.

"Dunderheads. The lot of you." Snape strode forward, flicking his wand and returning the classroom to order.

Hermione's eyes were puffy, and she looked near tears. "Sir, I don't understand, I followed the recipe exactly and-"

"Of course you did Miss Granger, that is why I had to sabotage it."

"What?" Ron turned beat red, his eyes flashing with fury. "You sabotaged our potions and then took away points, you sneaky git!"

"Compliments will get you nowhere, Mr. Weasley. I did not take away points because of your potions. I took them away because McAllister was enough of an idiot to share his plans for overthrowing the wizarding world with you! Now sit down!"

The four friends sat, stunned.

"How do you-" Harry began, then stopped and swallowed. "You can't prove anything."

"I'm very much afraid he can, Harry."

From Snape's office stepped Sergeant Prewett, giving the children a reassuring smile. "It seems professor Snape is a legilimens."

Hermione let out a gasp, and the other children turned to look at here. She flushed. "It means he can read minds. I didn't know there were any living legilimens, it's supposed to be a very difficult branch of magic, and a very rare one. I read about it in 'The Lost Arts of Magic.'"

Glowering, Snape loomed over Hermione. "That, Mrs. Granger, is in the restricted section of the library. How exactly did you obtain access to it?"

Hermione paled and muttered something under her breath.

Snape nodded. "Congratulations; sneaking past Madam Pince is no mean feat. Two points to Gryffindor. Your skill at subterfuge and retrieval will not go unwasted in the years to come."

"But this doesn't make any sense," wailed Neville. "I thought you'd put us in detention forever if you found out about Harry's plans to help the muggles against Voldemort."

Snape sat behind his desk, steepling his fingers before him and leaning forward slightly. "Indeed, I may actually have elected to do so, if I believed that there was any hope of the wizarding world managing to defeat the Dark Lord again. Sadly, the headmaster is no longer the wizard he once was, and the wizarding world appears to believe that it can rely on you, Mr. Longbottom, to defeat the Dark Lord upon his return."

"Me?" squeaked Neville. "But, but Harry-"

"I think it's best if we explain the whole thing to them, Mr. Snape," Mr Prewett said. He sighed and walked closer to the children. "Look, kids, I suppose you might have figured it out, but I'm not exactly working here because I suddenly got the urge to live among the maggies again."

"You're undercover," Harry said immediately. "You're hear to protect us, to fight Voldemort if-"

"Do not speak his name!" Snape was on his feet and next to Harry in a moment, his wand out. It was only when Sergeant Prewett stepped next to Snape with a menacing air that the potions master lowered his wand. "You may think you are being brave when you say his name, as the headmaster would have you believe. That is foolishness. The Dark Lord can sense when his name is spoken, he can glean information about you when you do so. To speak his name is folly."

"But what if everyone said his name," Harry asked. "He couldn't make sense of it all. He's just a wizard, not the devil or something."

Snape paused, then shook his head. "That may in fact be the case, but so many now fear to use his name that the select idiots that do so would only attract his attention all the more. Refrain from it, until you are able to challenge and defeat the headmaster in a duel."

"I bloody told you all," Ron grumbled.

"We are getting distracted." Snape whirled and returned to his desk. "The point of this interview, is that yes, I can indeed read minds, and I have decided to throw my lot in with you and your pet muggles, McAllister. What an army of squibs and muggles can do against the Dark Lord, I do not know, but it is better than Fudges quibbling or Dumbledore's senility."

Harry's mind was spinning, but he tried to stay focused. "So, what does that mean, sir?"

"It means, foolish child, that you have much to learn before you go about recruiting any more idiots and broadcast your intent to cause the downfall of the current order!"

Sergeant Prewett cleared his throat. "What Mr. Snape is trying to say is that we are going to have to be more cautious in our future actions. The wizarding world is now on high alert, some to prevent You-Know-Whos-"

"Darth Stupidus," Harry supplied. When the adults gave him incredulous looks, he explained, "If we can't call him by his name, at least we can call him something a little more insulting."

The Sergeant winked. "I quite like it."

"It is foolish to make light of the Dark Lord, but since you are all rather committed to folly, I see no reason not to. Regardless, while some will seek to stop the Dark Lord, others will want to usher in his return."

"Do you think he's going to be back soon?" Neville looked pale, but his voice was steady when he asked.

"An excellent question, Longbottom." Snape began to pace back and forth behind his desk, his robes billowing. "From what I saw of his form, it is clear he has regained a great deal of strength, able to interact with the physical world on a much greater level. However, it is also clear that he is still a pale shadow of his former self. He has far to go before he once again threatens the entirety of Magical Britain and the continent, but that is only a few short years off, less if he has help."

"Then we train," Harry said firmly. "We recruit more allies. Just tell the other kids it's too help fight Darth Stupidus when he comes back, and then when the maggie government makes a mess of things recruit them to our side."

"Not a terrible plan, Mr. McAlister," Snape agreed. "Though you would do well to seek allies in other houses, even my own."

"But aren't Slytherins a load of-" Ron cut himself off, realizing who he was speaking to.

Snape sneered at him. "While it is true that my house has produced more than its fair share of dark wizards, do keep in mind that your precious rat was a Gryffindor in his own time. There were more than a few dark Ravenclaws as well. Augustus Rookwood, for one, was a Ravenclaw. Barty Crouch junior was in Hufflepuff. There are others, of course, some in each house. You could find powerful allies in Slytherin, some who would be grateful to be given a way out if they were not informed it was the muggles they would be fighting for. Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini are both from families with little love for the Dark Lord and would be anxious to find powerful allies to pull them out of the Dark Lord's influence."

"But Daphne is awful, she's one of Pansy's friends and they're always calling me mudblood and worse," Hermione protested.

Ron nodded. "Yeah, and Blaise is a git. He's always acting superior towards everyone at everything, and he hangs with Draco."

Snape shook his head and his tone became bitter and scathing. "Did you never stop to consider that since everyone knows that Slytherins are evil, and since it is rare for inter-house friendships to run very deep, that perhaps they associate with the more militant purebloods simply because they have no other children who would be their friends?"

Snape's gaze made all four students lower their heads in embarrassment, and he continued. "I was one such child. I had one friend outside of my own house, your mother, McAlister. Even she abandoned me because I could not separate myself from those in my house and their beliefs. I took this," he rolled up his sleeve to display his dark mark, "because it seemed I had little other alternative. Everyone had already decided I was to be a Death Eater, those in my house, and those outside it. How could I help but live up to their expectations?"

"They're kids, just like you," Sergett Prewett said in a far gentler tone. "They need mates. They need friends who can be a good influence on them. Yes, they're arrogant and ambitious. You lot are a bit brash and domineering. You've all got flaws. Harry, we need all the help we can get. Try being a friend to the other students, even the ones outside of your house."

"I guess we really should for a club then?" Hermione asked tentatively. "One to train people to fight for themselves and have friends outside of their own house?"

"That is perhaps, not an abysmal proposition Miss Granger." Snape sat back at his desk and leaned back in his chair. "But to have such a club, a teacher would need to host it."

"Well, you're the obvious choice sir, aren't you?" Neville asked. "Since you know our secret already."

"No." Snape's tone did not brook arguement. "Instead, apply to young Professor Tonks. She is well liked by everyone, and having come from Hufflepuff, is seen as a neutral party. Apply to her to host your club. She would be most receptive."

"But what would we call it? We can't exactly call ourselves the junior muggle rangers," Ron said. He got a stink eye from Hermione and Harry. "Look, I'm not trying to be insulting, but norm just doesn't roll off the tongue the same way, OK?"

"She is the defense professor. Why not simply call yourselves the Defense Club?" The way Snape said that made it clear he was disappointed that he was the only one intelligent enough to have come up with such an obvious solution.

"Yeah. Yeah that's a pretty good idea," Harry agreed. "Can we go then, and ask her?"

"Yes. However, you have detention every Saturday evening from now until the end of term," Snape said.

"WHAT?!" all four students looked outraged, and Sergeant Prewett stepped in.

"It will not be a normal detention. Professor Snape will be teaching you how to guard your minds. He'll be giving me some exercises myself, though it's doubtful I'll be able to learn anything since I've no magic of my own."

"You'll teach us Occlumency?" Hermione asked. "The art of defending your mind against intrusion?"

"Indeed, Miss Granger. I am not hopeful that any of you will experience success, it is advanced and you are but first years and rather untalented ones at that, but perhaps you will prove yourself more capable than I suspect."

"We'll be master occluwhatsits in no time," Harry vowed.

With a roll of his eyes, Snape waved them out the door. "Do try to look upset and rebellious as you leave, remember that I have just given you a terms worth of detentions for your ineptitude and moral failings."

"We'll just tell everyone you're a greasy git. Sir." Ron did his best to look serious as he said it, then bolted out the door before Snape could met out more punishment, his friends close behind him.


	23. Chapter 22

_Chapter 22: Harry Goes Clubbing_

"Professor Tonks, can we talk to you for a minute?"

Tonks smiled and winked at Harry. "Of course kiddos, what do you need?"

"We were wondering if you'd be willing to sponsor a club for us, Professor. An inter-house club where everyone could learn some more advanced defensive techniques and practice them for when Darth Stupidus returns?"

Tonks raised an eyebrow at Harry. "Darth who? Oh, you must mean You-Know-Who." She laughed, then morphed her face into bald, burned horror and began wheezing, "I find your lack of faith disturbing."

Harry and Hermione burst out laughing, while Ron and Neville just looked confused. Tonks winked at them as she changed back to normal. "Dads a muggle born, and he insisted on taking me to go so those. Were a formative part of his youth I take it. I rather liked them. Not a bad name either. Yeah, I'd love to sponsor a club for you sprogs. I'll ask the boss about it and the bigger boss. I think they'd be right keen on it though."

"Thanks Professor," Harry said earnestly. "Tell them it would be the Defense Club, and that we'd want to meet on Sunday afternoons."

The next morning Tonks happily informed Harry and company that she had indeed procured permission from the Headmaster and Moody to form the club. Moody had stated he'd be willing to come in and advise the students if needed, and while Dumbledore wouldn't be involved he gave the venture his blessing provided it was an inter-house effort.

"Oi, Blaise, you got a moment?" Harry called. He and Neville hurried up to the dark skinned Slytherin, who was reading in a quiet section of the library.

Blaise looked up, a superior expression on his face. "What is it, McAlister?"

Forcing himself to smile despite the arrogant tone, Harry continued, "We're forming a club. The Defense Club. We'd like to have first years from every house represented, and you have the best marks in DADA for your house. It'd be great if you agreed to help us, we might even be able to make you an officer."

Blaise didn't lose his superior look or tone, but he practically preened under the praise Harry was lavishing upon him. "I might be interested. What exactly does this little club of yours entail?"

"We'd be learning more advanced spells and practicing them, spells that could help us if the school was attacked again, or if You-Know-Who comes back," Neville explained. "Someone as good as you would be a real help to have in the club. It's going to be Sunday afternoons. We'll have tea and biscuits too."

"I suppose I could make time for that, provided there is tea and it isn't anything too stupid," Blaise agreed, thinking of food and proving that he was superior. He picked his book back up in a clear dismissal, and Harry and Neville walked away.

Once they were out of the library, Harry rolled his eyes. "What a ponce," he muttered to Neville.

The other boy shrugged. "Yeah, but if I had to choose between having him on my side, and having him on the Dark Side, I know which one I'd pick. He is really talented, you know."

"Yeah. I just hope he lightens up a bit."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Daphne, are you alright?" Hermione was standing outside of one of the stalls in the girls loo, and faint sobs could be heard within. They stopped as soon as she spoke.

"I'm fine, Granger. Go away."

"It was Pansy, wasn't it? I heard her making fun of your hair. It really is lovely, I wish I had such straight hair."

Their was a loud sniff from inside the stall. "Why should I care what you think, Granger? You're just a mudblood anyway."

Fighting back her anger at the slur, Hermione pressed on. "Come off it, Daphne. You don't actually believe any of that rot. Pansy does. Why do you just parrot whatever she says? You're much better looking, and you're smarter too. I think we could actually be friends, if you just let us. I think you're much nicer than Pansy, and I'd like to think I'd be a better friend than her."

Daphne Greengrass was a very lonely girl. She was separated from her younger sister, who had long been her best friend, and because her family wasn't as influential as the Parkinson family, she'd had no hope in the Slytherin social hierarchy with Pansy there. Not with Millicent fawning over her, just grateful that she was finally friends with someone, even if it was only because both Pansy and Millicent enjoyed tormenting girls in other houses. With no other options, Daphne had fallen in line with Pansy, not really enjoying the bullying that she participated in, but desperate to have a place on the social hierarchy that wasn't at the bottom and therefor an easy target for Pansy.

Still, the other two Slytherin girls had made it very clear that Daphne was only tolerated. She knew that she was prettier than the other two girls, especially the fat and odious Millicent. And her beautiful blonde hair was much nicer than Pansy's, which was the only reason that little troll made fun of it so much. Daphne didn't have to use loads of beautification potions on her hair for it to be silky and shining, she was just naturally talented and beautiful like that.

Slowly, Daphne pushed the door open to find the bucktoothed Granger girl there. But she didn't look so ugly when she was smiling hopefully at Daphne, her eyes warm and caring.

"Why would you want to be friends with me?" Daphne asked. "And why should I want to be friends with you? None of the Gryffindor girls hang around with you, and I know Pavarti and Lavender have made fun of your teeth and hair almost as much as I have. You just hang around with those boys."

"'Those Boys' as you put it Daphne, have never made fun of my hair or teeth. Not once. In fact, they're very kind to me. I just wish I had more friends who were girls, because they are boys and can be pretty thick about a lot of things. I don't really fit in with Lavender and Pavarti, they're only concerned about looks and being charming. I'm here to learn useful things, like how to be a powerful witch so that no one can bully me. You're not a bad witch yourself, with a bit of practice, I bet you could have Pansy and Millicent begging you to teach them."

Daphne was quite taken in. She overlooked the fact that she personally was obsessed with looks, and how they helped you fit into the social hierarchy. She liked the idea of having powerful friends who couldn't be bullied, and having power herself so she got to dictate where she fit into things. "But how would being friends with you make me a powerful witch?" Daphne demanded.

Hermione smiled, showing her buck teeth again. But she also patted her wand, which Daphne knew she was pretty good with. "Come to the Defense Club Sunday afternoon. Professor Tonks is teaching it. We'll be learning how to defend ourselves so that no one can bully us. And there will be tea and biscuits, and I need someone else with me to show all the boys how to behave. Blaise will be there too, you know."

"Oh, well, if Blaise will be there, I suppose I could come too. Will Pansy be there?"

Hermione gave Daphne a conspiratorial wink. "We only want the best sorts there, and I don't know if Pansy and Millicent really fit that description."

That sealed it. "I'll be there." Daphne hesitated. "And I'm sorry for calling you a beaver."

Hermione walked out of the loo first, and Ron fell in beside her. "How'd it go with her? She wasn't too awful?"

Hermione gave him a smile. "Quite well I should think. It will be nice to have someone else there who understands how important manners and such are for tea."

Ron let out a loud belch. Hermione wrinkled her nose. He'd done that on purpose. "Yeah, well, as long as she stops making fun of you. Who cares if you do look like a bit like a beaver? You're a good mate anyway."

Ron didn't see Hermione's expression, which was probably a good thing. He did hear her mutter, "Boys." But since he was a boy, he didn't think anything of it.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Right you lot, I'm the sponsoring Professor and I'll be here to help if you need me, but this club was your idea and I don't want to be that annoying adult who can't keep her business to herself. So I'll just be over here grading your papers and doing boring teacher stuff and leave you too it. Oh, and five points to Hufflepuff for being on time."

With that, Tonks went to her desk and did her best to focus on grading essays, though her eyes kept wandering back to what the assembled first years were doing. Harry felt rather proud. All the Gryffindor first years were there, though the absence of Dean and Seamus was an open wound to the youngsters. From Ravenclaw they had Padma Patil, Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein, and Michael Connor. From Hufflepuff, Ernie MacMillan, Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot, and Leanne Rees. They had even managed to get Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass from Slytherin, though the others were eyeing the two serpents warily. Harry intended to put a stop to that here and now.

"Right, I'm glad you all came," Harry said. "Please help yourself to the tea and biscuits, procured for us by our mentor, Percy Weasley." He nodded to Percy, who was a bit removed from the group, sitting with Penelope as they worked on homework and ate biscuits. Percy nodded back, then resumed his studies, though whether he was working on charms or charming Penelope wasn't clear. "Percy helped enchant these knuts we'll pass out, which can be used to alert us if another member is in danger."

"This is the first meeting of the Defense Club. Here, we are going to work together to learn techniques that will help us defend ourselves against bullies, and to stand up to evil and the dark side should they ever return."

At the mention of evil and the darkside, several people shot glances at Daphne at Blaise, but Harry ignored them.

"As all of you know, last term two students were killed. They didn't know how to protect themselves, and we didn't know how to protect them either." That caused everyone to look varying degrees of upset and afraid, and Harry took a deep breath and continued. "Everyone who is a member of the defense club must swear to use what they learn here to be a hero. To never hurt an innocent, to always help protect others if they can, and to always use their powers for good."

"We're not all Gryffindors, in case you hadn't noticed," Blaise snarked.

Harry gave Blaise a cool look. "I had noticed. I know you're ambitious, Blaise. Why not be ambitious to be looked up to as a skilled hero, to have the ambition to never have to fall in with a gang of bullies only because they're the only lot who will have you? What if your ambition was to be the very best, so that you got to dictate who was cool and who wasn't, instead of having that dictated to you because someone's parents were rich and powerful. What if you were so powerful yourself that they wanted to be your friend because you were the important one?"

Blaise didn't say anything, but it was pretty clear that the speech Harry had worked on with Snape and Sergeant Prewitt was working. The idea of being powerful and getting to dictate who was and wasn't his friend because everyone wanted to be around him obviously appealed to Blaise. Harry wasn't sure, but he was pretty certain Daphne had nodded slightly when he'd talked about being the important one.

He turned back to the rest of the students. "We need all kinds of heroes. Yes, being brave is a good way to be a hero. But what about people who use their wits to outsmart the bad guys, who are so smart that no foe could hope to overcome their plans. Or what about a hero who is so hardworking and dedicated that they can beat anyone just by sheer grit and determination? Or a hero who is so cunning and devious that they never have to directly confront their foes, defeating them before the battle even starts?"

Everyone was nodding now, Harry having described the best traits of each house. "Of course, we'll be practicing the stuff that Professor Tonks has taught us, especially since she's loads better than any professor Hogwarts has had in ages just because she's so awesome."

"And you know it," Tonks said, grinning cheekily at Harry, her work mostly forgotten "Ten points to Hufflepuff! Oh and one to Gryffindor too."

"But we'll also be learning some other stuff. I'd encourage all of you to join us for our morning exercises; being tough is a long way towards being a good hero. But we'll also learn some martial arts. Wizards in Japan and China have used martial arts to enhance their magic and defeat foes for ages, and it's a shame no one in Britain has learned any of their techniques." Harry gave everyone a wicked grin. "Of course, if we're the first one to learn those techniques, we'll crush anyone stupid enough to try and defeat us."

Hermione stood and waved her wand, and several mats unrolled to cover the classroom floor, the desks all having been pushed to the side. "We'll start with some simple punches and kicks, then learn how to incorporate those with spells. I admit we'll be making up a lot of this as we go along, so I'm more than happy to listen to any ideas that you have."

Even the Ravenclaws were willing enough to learn the punches and kicks, though it was soon obvious that robes were rubbish for martial arts. Harry had known this already, and he and the other Gryffindors made a quick change into clothes Harry's father had sent them. They were gis, white with the Gryffindor crest on them. "We can have more made up with your own house on them," Harry explained. "The belts on the gi will start off white, to show we're novices still. When everyone agrees that one of us has mastered the basics, they'll get a different color belt to show their progress. The highest belt will be one of yellow, green, red, and blue, the four colors of the Hogwarts houses. This will show that we're protectors of everyone, not just folks in our own house."

Everyone agreed, even if Daphne and Hannah commented that the gis were not very flattering. "It's that or tights," Harry said in exasperation. "Robes just don't work well for learning martial arts."

Daphne actually seemed to like the idea of tights, and several of the girls had whispered conversations about what that would look like. Harry didn't particularly care, he'd just chosen the gi because that's what he'd learned martial arts in for years and had no strong feelings about clothes one way or another. "Just make sure they're easy to move around in," he told the girls before they left. "You can even wear muggle clothes if you want."

At the end of the lesson, everyone sat and chatted again for a few minutes. It was surprising to find out just how much Harry had in common with the students in other houses, especially Anthony, who had practiced martial arts before coming to Hogwarts, his mother having trained in Jiu jitsu before marrying his father. "It would be cool to combine martial arts with spells. I'll do some research to see what techniques the asian wizards have used."

"I've still got loads of homework," Daphne complained. "This was very interesting and all, but I suppose it will take a long time to become powerful and it won't help me with my transfiguration essay."

"I could help you with your essay," Hermione offered. "In fact, we could all bring our homework and have a bit of a study group after. Since we're training to be powerful witches and wizards anyway, it would make sense we'd need to do our homework to master all the branches of magic."

A few students didn't seem keen on the idea of a study group, especially Ron and Michael, but finally everyone agreed to bring their work the next time to help each other out. Hermione and Daphne left to go to the library together, and everyone split up to go back to their common rooms. Harry, Ron and Neville stayed behind to help clean up.

"That was brilliant Harry," Ron said as they picked up the mats and biscuit trays. "I didn't think I'd say this, but the kids in the other houses aren't all bad sorts. Different sure, and maybe some of them are kind of annoying, but I guess it won't hurt to have them on our side."

"It was fun," Neville agreed. "I'm feeling a lot better now, and I think practicing those punches and stuff will help me recover faster." Neville had managed without the cane for a few days now, and he and Ron rarely had tremors in their hands and feet now.

"Right on Harry," Tonks commented, coming over to help finish putting the mats away. "Same time next week? I'll be happy to show you sprogs some of the tricks they teach new aurors. There isn't much focus on martial arts, but we do learn how to stop a punch and such."

"That'd be great Professor," Harry agreed. "Thanks for having us. And thanks for agreeing to show us advanced magic and stuff later, Percy."

"We're glad to help Harry," Penelope said, smiling at the younger students. "It was very nice to see you firsties from all the other houses helping each other out. I had always wished everyone got along a bit better, and I think this will help."

"Absolutely! Five more points to Hufflepuff, Penny!"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"It seems young Harry and Neville are forming quite the little following, eh Severus?"

Snape did his best not to snort with laughter at the headmaster's remark. Oh how little the man knew. "They seem to take great comfort in playing the part of the hero, headmaster," Snape said, making sure to sneer as he did so. It wouldn't do to drop his act now.

"They are coming along quite nicely. Minerva and Filius tell me that Neville's wand work has improved immensely now that he has a wand that suits him well. He seems to be doing quite well under young Nymphadora as well."

Snape turned his back and rolled his eyes. "Yes. Amazing how having a teacher who isn't possessed can lead to learning."

"Off to administer another detention? Really Severus, you might consider commuting their sentences. A whole semester's worth of detentions for a potions accident? That's severe, even for you." There was reproach in the headmaster's tone, and more than a little steel, but Snape shrugged.

"The detentions were more for their behavior towards me after the fact than the actual incident. They accused me of tampering with mixtures and swore at me. Even you cannot countenance such disrespect for a professor, headmaster, not even from your pets. And after all, did you not tell me to be hard on them?"

Sensing that he had won this round and that the Headmaster was not likely to reply, Snape strode from the staff lounge and made his way down to the dungeons, where the four miscreants were waiting for him. He opened the door and motioned them inside.

"You, McAllister, are first tonight."

Groaning, Harry came to the front of the room and perched on the stool before Snape's desk. The other three busied themselves cleaning the classroom and organizing the potions cupboard. This wasn't their first "detention", and they were used to the routine by now.

Harry took a few deep breaths, his eyes closed, then opened them and met Snape's eyes. "Legilimens!"

Snape went through the young boy's mind like a hot knife through butter. There were few secrets that he did not know now. He saw Harry crying when he found out he was adopted, saw him sneaking snakes into the girl's bathroom by talking to them and-

"You are a parselmouth!?"

Harry blinked, trying to refocus his thoughts. "I...what?"

Snape came around the desk, holding out his wand. " _Serpensortia!"_ A long black viper slithered out of the wand, and slithered towards Harry. The boy didn't appear panicked in the least he merely began to hiss at it, and the snake stopped, coiling up and looking at Harry as if waiting for a command.

"What was that for, sir?" Harry asked, his tone puzzled.

Snape looked at him carefully, then at the snake. He pressed his lips together. "How long have you been able to talk to snakes?"

In the back of the classroom, the sounds of cleaning had halted, as the other three students were now watching Harry and Snape.

Shrugging, Harry glanced back down at the snake. "I dunno. Always, I guess. I could always talk to Amanda's snakes, she was Becky's best mate."

With a flick of his wand, Snape banished the snake. "That is interesting news. You three, come here," he snapped. "As you are obviously not getting any work done back there."

All three of Harry's friends were about him in an instant. "You can talk to snakes? But, I thought you were a Gryffindor through and through Harry!" Ron was panicking slightly, looking angry and concerned.

Hermione looked worried as well. "Harry, talking to snakes is a very dark talent. If people knew that you could, they'd talk."

Neville snorted. "Shows what you lot know. Saint Patrick is an ancestor of mine, and he could talk to snakes and no one thinks he's dark."

"Saint Patrick was a wizard?" Hermione demanded, looking shocked. "I never saw that in any historical textbooks on famous British wizards!"

Neville rolled his eyes. "That's because he's Irish, Hermione. Unlike norm Ireland, wizarding Ireland was never conquered by the British wizards and never really integrated into British society. There are a lot of bonds because we're close, share a language, and are in the same quidditch league, but that's about it. Ireland even has it's own wizarding school: the Acadamh Na N-Ealaíon Draíochta. It's not as big or important as Hogwarts and a few Irish families send their kids here, but it's still separate."

"Longbottom is essentially correct about the Irish connection," Snape agreed. "However, Weasley and Granger are indeed right: here in England and Scotland parseltongue is most closely associated with the bloodline of Salazar Slytherin, and with the Dark Lord in recent times."

"Darth Stupidus could talk to snakes too?" Harry looked slightly concerned at the revelation, but didn't seem to be taking the whole thing seriously enough.

"It is yet another connection with the Dark Lord," Snape snarled. He pressed his thumb on Harry's scar. "And I am increasingly concerned. This scar is more than it appears. There is something deeply wrong with it. What I do not know, and have not the skill to find out. Perhaps you could consult with your muggle doctors, but I do not believe they could be of any help in the matter."

Snape took a deep breath then gestured Harry away. "Enough. Focus on emptying your mind of emotion. Practice each night. You are not taking this seriously enough. If the Headmaster were to ever read your mind, or heaven forbid, the Dark Lord, all your plans would come to ruin. You! Weasley. Let us see if your defenses have improved past the point a toddler could manage."

At the end of the night Snape sat alone in his rooms, staring into the fire. None of the four were any good at occlumency. Even Granger, who showed the most promise, had woefully inadequate defences. Snape didn't consider the fact that woefully inadequate defences for an eleven year old were still very good, he only ruminated on the shortcomings of his pupils. And on the fact that McAllister was a parselmouth. What did it mean? It was connected to the scar, Snape was certain of that. Something about the scar...it was like the phylactery, the ring Dumbledore had. None of his research had turned up anything so far, and Snape was starting to think researching old Egyptian and Greek wizards was perhaps barking up the wrong tree.

But where to look? Time was running out. If the phylactery was destroyed, perhaps that would slow or halt the Dark Lord's return. If the scar was somehow a phylactery as well though...

Long into the night, Snape gazed into the flames, but they held no answers for him.

 _Authors Note:_

 _Thanks to all my readers, and especially those who have left a review. The story just past 100k views!_


	24. Chapter 23

_Chapter 23: Signs_

The office of the Minister of Magic reflected the man who held it. For some, the office projected an air of stern authority, decorating itself with hardwood furniture and tapestries of ancient wizards doing great deeds. For others, an air of wisdom pervaded, with glass orbs that attempted to peer into the future and maps showing where wizards were that they might be better guided. For Cornelius Fudge, the office reflected an air of political sleaze. The chair and couches were faux leather, attempting to show wealth but really a thin veneer. The walls were decorated with Fudges various achievements; mostly meeting and congratulating the rich and famous, including his pride and joy photo of Fudge and Gilderoy Lockhart, the latter awarding the former his Order of Merlin, Third Class. Both men's smiles were equally phony, gilding on top of a pile of lies.

"Minister, I really must ask, why do you allow yourself to be lead around by the nose by that old fool? He is attempting to subvert your powerbase. Each individual he has asked you to investigate for providing financial support to You-Know-Who has historically been one of your best campaign contributors. Why, even dear old Lucius here is listed. I can't possibly imagine such an upstanding citizen having anything to do with the vicious lone attacker." Undersecretary Umbridge beamed at Fudge, her dimpled cheeks giving her slightly wrinkled face a grandmotherly look.

"It is disturbing in the extreme that Dumbledore would be so swift to shift the blame," Lucius Malfoy agreed, his hands resting atop his serpent cane. His immaculately tailored boots tapped absently on the floor, though the rest of his body was calm and poised. "Several of the individuals he has fingered are even on the board of governors of Hogwarts. It is clear that he wishes to be absolved of his own guilt. I have said for years that the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts in Hogwarts is filled only by pets and fools. Now I must add menaces to the list. Really, does the old man think that I would want such a dangerous individual at Hogwarts? My own son is at the school, and even if I were as black a creature as the headmaster makes me out to be, surely I would not endanger my own blood and heir?"

"Well, of course you are no dark wizard Lucius," Fudge agreed, tapping a finger on the green bowler hat he had carefully placed atop his desk. He was tempted to begin to spin it, but he thought that nervous habit would be inappropriate under the present circumstances. "But you must admit some of the people who claimed to be under the imperius curse after the last war were mighty suspicious themselves."

"As an individual who was placed under such a curse, I can assure you that reopening such an investigation would be most traumatic to your constituents." By which Lucius clearly meant it would reduce Fudges campaign funds. "It would also open old wounds at a time when we need healing."

"Yes, yes," Umbridge agreed. "Perhaps instead a large trial? Why not two, in fact! We could right the wrongs of the previous government by freeing Black and imprisoning Pettigrew."

Fudge brightened at that idea. "And at the same time we stall Dumbledore. He's been pressuring the Wizengamot to bring those two to trial soon, and using my influence to bring it about will get him on my side."

"A brilliant plan, Minister," Lucius agreed smoothly. "But what will you do about the old man after that? He is still Chief Warlock, and Supreme Mugwump. We must begin to subvert his powerbase before he makes his final grab for power."

"But Dumbledore has never played for power before." Fudge absently picked the hat up and spun it once, before carefully setting it back down. "Do you really think he's finally making a play for personal power?"

"No, not personally. But he's been grooming other prospects to take over as minister should you displease him too greatly. He could force a vote if he succeeds in alienating your powerbase."

"Yes, that Arthur Weasley has been popular lately, hasn't he," Umbridge agreed. "The man is deeply in Dumbledore's pocket as well. Why, I even hear he's sympathetic to muggles as well! How dreadful to have such a man as minister! He'd never do such a wonderful job as you, Cornelius."

Fudge was spinning his hat furiously now, hardly even aware he was doing it. "Weasley? But he's a nobody!"

"Was a nobody," Lucius said. "The public believes that his son has dueled You-Know-Who. It's nonsense of course, the man was merely a dark wizard of some sort, but such popular opinion could be harnessed as a political force. People are afraid, and they need to see something done. A show trial would be just the thing. Then you can move on harsher muggle restrictions to improve security."

"Hmm. Yes, yes very well. I shall inform the Wizengamot that the trials for Pettigrew and Black must begin by the end of the month. By next month I want one in Azkaban and the other out of my hair. And let's get Barty Crouch involved. He's been poking into things at the DMLE, looking into the Black and Pettigrew cases. Ever since he got back from his case of the dragon pox the man has simply been obsessed with our prisoners."

"Crouch was never a true ally of Dumbledore," Malfoy mused. "Unlike Bones. Her whole family has been his allies for years. Perhaps if Crouch were to make a return as the head of the DMLE?"

Fudge grinned wickedly. "At the very least, let's have him act on the Black case. He could owe me one of I let him redeem himself there, and there's enough mud on him that he'd never be a threat politically. Meet with him, Dolores, and see if he's receptive to replacing Amelia for her botched handling of the Black case and letting Pettigrew run around for years."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Moody stomped along the corridor, his eye spinning in the socket. He stopped at the Groundskeepers office and knocked. After a moment, Prewett appeared. "Evening, Sergeant."

Moody was the only wizard in the castle, save for some of the students, who called Prewett by his old rank. Unlike most adult wizards, Moody respected the old SAS rank, and what it implied. He'd had to tangle with muggle military units a time or two, conducting a few memory wipes during the last war, even working with a several retired soldiers before modifying their memories in one memorable battle. Unlike most wizards, they'd actually understood what constant vigilance meant. The four old warriors had actually held off a band of death eaters that had assaulted their sleepy muggle village for long enough for the aurors to arrive. One of them had died and two others grievously injured, but they'd been ready for trouble with old muggle weapons tucked away. It had taken the stupid dark wizards by surprise to find that muggles did indeed have teeth, something Moody had of course known. Even now he had a healthy respect for the rifle Prewett was carrying, and for the knifes and other weapons he had sequestered about his person.

"Evening, Senior Chief." Prewett in turn always addressed Moody by his rank of Senior Chief Auror, displaying a level of respect for the old wizard that even Dumbledore lacked. Both recognized the fighting spirit in the other, and respected it.

Together the two men set out on patrol, heading into the Forbidden Forest. While both had the skills to brave the creatures in the woods alone, neither was stupid enough to go on a dangerous mission alone when backup was available. Tonks was all well and good, and in Moody's opinion she'd make a fine auror one day, but she was still green, unlike the seasoned Sergeant.

The forest was dark, but neither man used any light that could give themselves away. They both moved silently through the trees, on alert for anything unusual.

"Wait a moment," Prewett said suddenly, hunkering down. Moody knelt beside the Sergeant, his eye scanning the surroundings. "You smell that?"

Moody sniffed the air, the frowned. "Smells like death."

"Yeah." There was a soft click, and Moody knew that the other man had just flipped the safety off his rifle. Together they went forward, slow and low, towards the lingering smell of corruption.

Moody held up a fist as his eye focused on a small clearing ahead. A dead animal lay in the clearing, unicorn by the size and silver gleam of the blood. He waited a moment, then stood slowly. "I think whatever that made the kill is gone. The thing is putrefying, even in the cold." He made a light with his wand and the sergeant withdrew a torch. Together they stepped forward into the clearing. Prewett kept watch while Moody inspected the corpse.

"Dead for hours. Something or someone slit its throat and harvested the blood."

"Didn't Hagrid mention that quite a few dead unicorns have been turning up?" Prewett asked, his torch beam searching the nearby trees and shrubs.

Moody performed a few quick scanning spells, noting that the surroundings were tainted by dark magic, and something else. Not a wizards magic, but a faint, unobtrusive magic that Moody couldn't quite put his finger on. "He has. Unicorns are quite rare here in Scotland. There's a preserve in Ireland and one down in Wales, but this is the only location with a herd in Northern Britain. I'll have to see if any other herds have had missing members."

"What would they want the blood for?" Prewett asked.

Moody shrugged. "Don't know. Any number of things. But I have my suspicious. It can be used to strengthen and give life. Especially to those near death. It's dark, but it will sustain you through any illness."

"Wasn't Darth Stupidus near death, a simple spirit?" Prewett said, coming over to take a look at the body. He knelt down and examined the slash at the unicorn's throat. "This wasn't done with magic. A knife did this. Not a terribly sharp blade either. A big one though. A butcher's tool I'd imagine."

"Agreed." Moody stood and looked around at the snow. He found what he was looking for. "Some sort of vessel was placed here to catch the blood."

Prewett came over and examined the indentation, kneeling down in the snow. "These prints….I'm no master tracker, but they are odd. They're small, but they don't look like animal prints. This one here looks like it could be from a boot, but I'm not sure."

"Been too long," Moody said. He stomped away from the corpse. "Come on, let's finish the patrol. I'll ask the centaurs if they've noticed anything."

"Will they even talk to you?"

"Probably not. Worth a try though. They don't like dark magic being performed in their wood. Or any magic for that matter."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

It was Sunday in early march, the air still brisk but the ground muddy with a few patches of lingering ice and snow. Through it splashed a group of mud spattered youths, the boy with the lightning scar setting the pace alongside the tall red-headed groundskeepers. The Gryffindor quidditch team had largely abandoned the effort by now, only Angelina along with Fred and George still made it out for the daily exercises. However, Professor Tonks was puffing alongside them, as were Justin, Hannah and Susan from the Defense club meetings. A brisk 5k run complete, Harry and Sergeant Prewett led everyone in push ups, sit ups, jumping stars, and a few quick martial arts katas. The sun was still low in the sky as the group made their way into the great hall, pulling on robes over their sweaty running clothes or quickly going into a bathroom to change.

As they sat, Neville groaned slightly, easing himself onto the bench next to Hannah. The end of the Gryffindor table had turned into "McAlister's Bunch" as many of the students and professors referred to it. Daphne was waiting for them, sitting next to Hermione and Angelina and talking animatedly. The previously spiteful Slytherin girl considered the physical exercise beneath her, but she was enjoying the social status that came with associating with several older students as well as being readily accepted by a group of girls of whom she considered herself the best looking. Pansy and Millicent occasionally tried to bully the other first year girls, but were so heavily outnumbered that their taunts were ineffectual. Even Draco and his cronies steered clear of Harry and his friends now after a week were Percy really had turned his back while Fred and George had tormented the three Slytherins to the point where Professor McGonagall and Snape had been forced to intervene. The warts on Crabbs face had never really gone away.

"Did you hear?" Daphne said, turning to Harry. "Sirius Black's trial is today! It's looking like he'll be freed. Isn't he your godfather?"

Harry shrugged. "I mean, I guess so. Professor Snape told me about it actually. But Black can't take me away from my family, they've legally adopted me."

"He's your magical guardian though," Daphne insisted. "The muggle laws wouldn't hold any weight in a wizarding court."

"She's right Harry," Hermione chimed in. "Wizarding adoption laws favor wizards over muggles in every case. I've been doing some research, and if Black really wants too there is legal precedence for him to remove you and obliviate your muggle guardians so that you can have a proper magical upbringing."

Ron snorted, pausing in his usual morning gorge. "They're bloody welcome to try. Harry would never leave his family, and none of us would let that happen either."

"I don't think they'll listen to a bunch of kids, Ron," Hermione said. "Especially not when your dad is in so much trouble right now."

"That car was perfectly legal!" Percy put in, his face still flushed from the morning run. "I checked the laws myself. All the modifications were approved by the Muggle Affairs department."

"Yeah, but didn't your dad approve all those himself?" Susan asked. "My auntie Amelia said that was the real trouble. She didn't like having to investigate, but there was pressure from above and she's in a lot of trouble herself."

Harry shrugged."All I know is, if anyone tries to kidnap me, I'm running away first thing. No one can catch me on my Nimbus. I'll fly all over London if I have to. I'd make such a fuss they'd have to give back to my parents."

"Speaking of flying, did you get permission for us to borrow the brooms for the club this afternoon Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, Ron and I talked to madam Hooch about it. She's going to come help Professor Tonks supervise. I think she's actually quite keen to teach something other than basic flying lessons for once."

"Harry and I'll loan our our brooms too," Ron promised. "They're loads better than the rubbish the school has."

"So unfair," Daphne grumbled. "You two get to have brooms. Harry I understand, he's on the quidditch team. But you're just a first year like the rest of us Ron!"

"One of the many perks of surviving Darth Stupidus," Neville said dryly. The other students laughed nervously, glancing at the scar on the back of Neville's hand. He didn't bother to try to hide it, but he looked slightly uncomfortable at all the attention. "My Gran wanted me to bring a broom as well, but I told her I'd rather not. Ron's mum threatened to hex the headmaster into next week if Ron couldn't have his."

"Yeah, she said if I'd had a broom I could have run away better. I didn't argue, though I don't know how I would have had my broom on me."

The group broke up after breakfast, some heading to the library to study, others going to the chess room to hang out for a bit. Ron loved moving the life sized chess pieces around for a game, though only Blaise ever managed to beat him on a consistent basis. Harry and Neville gamely tried, but the youngest Weasley son was far too adapt at the game. After getting thoroughly trounced, Harry brought out several decks of cards and he, Ron, Neville, Padma, Blaise, and Hannah all played BS until lunch time.

"Do you really think they'll try and take me away?" Harry asked, looking at his hand and trying to decide just how much to lie. It was on fours, and while he had one, he was certain he could put down up to three without anyone calling him on it. He tried it, but Hannah called him on it.

She showed six fours when Harry grumped about having to scoop up the pile. "Better luck next time Harry. Honestly, I don't know. I think some people were upset that the Boy-Who-Lived was being brought up by muggles, but that's Neville now so some people have relaxed a about all that."

Blaise laid down four sevens, which Neville promptly called him on. Blaise showed four sevens, which Neville gamely scooped up. "They'll make a play to get you with Black." All eyes turned to Blaise, who gave them a smug grin. "Black will owe Fudge and Dumbledore for getting him out of jail. He's also going to be easy to control, he'll be half mad from Azkaban. Both Fudge and Dumbledore want you in their pocket, because you might be the Chosen one and that's a political ace in the hole."

"Not to mention that Black's on record as saying that you and your family meant more to him than life itself," Padma said as she lay down three nines. No one called her on it. Padma rarely bluffed, and rarely called anyone, unlike her Gryffindor twin who was far more aggressive in her play. "He thinks of you as family, Harry."

"But I don't know him from Adam," Harry complained.

Ron shrugged. "Fudge is a git. Dumbledore I dunno about. I used to think he was the greatest wizard ever, but now…." He didn't finish, but everyone knew what he meant. Ron's single ten also went unchallenged, though Hannah squinted at the redhead over her cards. He was down to four, and clearly in the lead.

Neville laid down five jacks and was promptly called on it by Ron. He didn't even bother revealing his cards, picking up the pile and saying, "Gran says that even Dumbledore makes mistakes. He's really old, you know, 110 or something. He's still a great wizard. Maybe you should have a chat with him Harry."

Harry frowned at Neville. Blaise, Hannah and Padma definitely were not in on the secret fully, though the three of them seemed to have picked up on the fact that Harry was leading his own little faction against Darth Stupidus. None of them really thought of it as challenging Dumbledore though, and Harry wasn't quite ready to disabuse them of that notion.

"I think when the time comes Dumbledore will be on the right side," Harry said evasively.

Blaise grunted. "That entirely depends on what you believe the right side to be. A lot of people, a lot of powerful people, would consider anyone who sides with Dumbledore a fool and a blood traitor."

"Is that what you think, Blaise?" Hannah demanded, glaring at the Slytherin as he made his play.

"I call BS."

"You're loss, read them and weep. No, not really. I parroted the whole line for a while just because I was in Slytherin, even started to believe it. My mums a pureblood, though being Italian she's not really considered to be on the same level as a British family. I'm more about personal ambition though. I want to be a powerful solicitor like her someday and just as rich. It's kind of irritated my latest stepfather I don't spout the pureblood rot now. I think mum's going to 'divorce' him soon and take his assets again, so it's alright."

"She really does go through the husbands," Padma said, making a face. "BS Ron."

"Ha! No lies that time, you should have called me last go around Padma! I win again!" There was a chorus of groans at the pronouncement, though Ron did not stand to do his usual victory dance. He looked Harry dead in the eyes, his expression grim. "Harry, if anyone does try and separate your family, know that the Weasley's have your back. We won't let Black take you away from your home."

"For what it's worth, my Gran and I will help as well," Neville vowed, and the others made noises of agreement.

Blaise winked at Harry. "I'll write my mum for you Harry. She doesn't do pro bono work, but I think I can convince her to give you a reasonable rate to remove your little problem."

"Thanks everyone, I appreciate it. I really don't think it will be a real problem though."

/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/

"Black is going to be a real problem for you, McAlister." Once again Harry and his friends were in "detention" with Snape, though for now the occlumency lessons had been shelved. "The Headmaster is going to have him make a play for you this week, now that he's officially free. The Black family carries a great deal of weight, and he will have the sympathy of the Wizengamot. If he wants you, there will be little I or anyone else can do to stop it with the current political air."

"But why would the Headmaster want me away from my parents!" Harry protested.

Snape shrugged. "Because you are one of the potential heroes prophesied to defeat the Dark Lord. He does this not to spite you, McAlister, but to protect you. You would be far safer from his perspective with Black in a magically protected home then with your family. If you continue to make a face like that McAlister, I shall be forced to douse you with something that will deserve such a sour expression."

"But it's such nonsense!" Harry cried, shaking his fists in frustration.

Ron nodded, his own face flushed with anger. "It's a load of rubbish. I thought the headmaster cared for us, but he'd take Harry away from his family! Plus, has he even met Harry's dad? He'd destroy any stupid Death Eaters that even thought of hurting Harry."

"The Headmaster does care for Harry. Quite deeply, in fact. However, his sentimentality along with the fact that for so long he really has known best has blinded him to certain realities. Namely that muggles are not completely useless. Though he is a champion of their rights, in many ways it is because the Headmaster believes that muggles must be protected from wizards and from themselves. He seems himself as the wise master who knows what is best for everyone and will give it to them, even if they do not want it."

"That sounds incredibly patronising," Hermione said. "And so totally typical of the magical world! Did you know, they don't technically have legal custody of me? Professor McGonagall is my magical guardian and could place me in a new home if she really wanted! It's all to protect this stupid statute of secrecy. If a family doesn't want their child educated at Hogwarts, the wizarding world can legally remove them and memory charm their parents! They never even told my family, I had to ask after doing some research!"

Harry was stunned by the news. "Does that mean that she's my magical guardian too?"

"No, Black is yours McAlister. Have I not been telling you that for weeks now?" Harry glared at Snape, but the potions master glared right back, and his far superior glare soon had Harry backing down. "You are in a precarious situation. If you are removed from your family, the entire muggle scheme to infiltrate and change the wizarding world could go up in smoke!"

"He won't have the opportunity." The students jumped, not having heard Sergeant Prewett step into the room and quietly close the door behind him. Snape nodded, his alarms having alerted him who was approaching. "If he tries to take you Harry, Black with have an unfortunate accident."

"You'll kill him?" Neville said, his eyes widening.

"No," Snape gave the students a wicked grin. "I have long desired to visit vengeance upon the fool who attempted to kill me so many years ago. I shall dose him with a potion which will make him suffer the symptoms of Spattergroit. Such an illness would render him incapable as a guardian for many years, as the disease even in remission is transmittable and especially dangerous to children."

"That's really nasty," Ron commented. "And brilliant. No one would even want to be around Black for ages if he had come down with Spattergroit. I heard they had an outbreak of it in Azkaban a few years back too, so no one would even be suspicious."

Hermione frowned. "That seems really cruel."

"The other option really is killing him." Hermione looked at the Sergeant as if she expected a joke, but wilted when it became obvious that the man was deadly serious. "We cannot allow your mission to be compromised at this time," he continued. "With the resurgence of the Darth and the increasingly cutthroat political environment of Magical Britain we are in danger. If the plan was revealed the rather harsh anti-muggle laws really could go into effect, and some might even willingly go over to the Darth who hadn't considered it before."

"Yeah. It's real." Neville looked faintly ill, but he nodded reluctantly. "I understand. It wasn't right what happened to the muggles last time around, and there really are not any good choices. But if we can save any kids from what happened to my parents or Dean and Seamus, it would be worth it."

"We really will try not to kill anyone we don't have to," Prewett said. "If at all possible we will try to persuade Black to leave Harry in place."

"I rather hope he doesn't listen," Snape said, stroking a vile of sticky black potion that had a sickly aura to it. "Revenge can be so sweet, especially when visited on the deserving."

"Professor, this is about more than revenge," Harry said. "If we could have Black on our side, that would be infinitely better. I think he's suffered enough."

Snape shrugged. "Perhaps. But that fool never could see beyond his own vainglory."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/

 _Authors Note:_

 _I always found charming, grandmotherly Umbridge to be far scarier and nasty than ugly toad Umbridge. It's one of the few things that the movies improved upon the books in. Having an ugly villain with a nasty personality isn't much of a shock or surprise, you expect that person to be ugly and nasty. Having someone who looks like a young, attractive grandmother who is so sweet turn out to be such a villainous pile of prejudice and malice is far, far scarier. She takes you in with her warm words and exterior, but underneath is the chill of the grave._

 _Also, uh, someone already noticed that I thought Penelope was a Hufflepuff (why I can't recall but I seriously thought she was). It's um, it's sort of a plot point in future chapters that a few key things hinge on. I discovered this about ten chapters AFTER I had made it really important when I was re-reading Chamber of Secrets. Woops. I swapped her with a Hufflepuff prefect who is now in Ravenclaw. You'll discover way this is important around chapter 25 and 28._


	25. Chapter 24

_Chapter 24: A Sirius Problem_

"Headmaster, we have a problem."

Dumbledore looked up immediately to find Alastor standing in the doorway, breathing hard. In a moment, his wand was in his hand and he strode for the door. "What is it?"

"The McAlister boy's father is here." Moody pronounced this with a grim certainty that something very wrong indeed had happened.

Blinking, Dumbledore paused. "I'm sorry, did you say Sirius is here already? He's not due for an hour, but-"

"No. I mean that Tom McAlister is here, now, waiting at the train station for us."

For a moment, Dumbledore's mind seemed to refuse to work, and he tried to grasp why Alastor was acting as if this was the end of the world. "Well, student's parents do visit on occasion. Why exactly are you so worked up about this?" When Moody refused to answer and simply glared back, Dumbledore thought for a moment. Then his jaw dropped. "But, he's a muggle. How did- he's not secretly a squib is he?"

"No. I looked into it. Not a drop of magical blood going back for a dozen generations. As muggle as you can get. But he's here. Looking to chaperone Harry during his meeting with Black today."

Dumbledore's mouth firmed. He'd notified the McAlisters that Harry would be meeting his godfather of course, it was only proper. He'd half expected objections that he'd parry off with the excuse that as muggles they could not actually come to the school, and go from there. He had planned to let Black take Harry to Hogsmeade, giving the child presents and showing him a good time, so that Harry might even suggest that he spend part of the Easter Holiday's with Sirius, and then perhaps the summer holidays and so on. This threw quite the wrench into his plans however.

Walking over to the silver instruments on his desk, Dumbledore inspected them carefully. None were out of alignment, the wards were in full force, including the anti-muggle wards. Right now, Mr. McAlister should be feeling a rather strong urge to be anywhere but at Hogwarts urgently, and seeing only dusty ruins. If he wasn't, that was because something was very wrong indeed.

"Then let us not keep our guest waiting, Alastor." Dumbledore strode from his office and towards the train station, his mind racing. How had the muggle made it all the way here? Surely by the time he arrived, the magic would have done its work and chased him off.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Feeling alright, Major?"

Tom worked his finger around his collar, loosening it slightly and trying to breath normally. "Fine. Have to stay focused though. I keep feeling like I need to be elsewhere, or that I need to take a piss or something. It's rather distracting." In fact, while talking Tom had started to walk away from the train station, but he steeled his nerves and turned back, keeping a tight grip on his brief case.

"Hmm, sounds like the elves in the Workshop need to do a bit more tinkering with Father Christmas' toys. The connection is good though?"

"I can hear you fine. How's the quality on your end?"

"Not bad, considering. We'll let you focus. We're listening in though. If it gets really bad, take another lodestone pill. Just one though. And whatever you do, don't take the hat off."

Tom went ahead and popped another lodestone pill, dry swallowing it. He didn't really know what was in them, only that it could become toxic if you overdosed on the stuff. Something about magic inhibiting chemicals and mild radiation that interfered with magical energies, but it was all over his head. All he knew is that it was what would allow him to keep Harry safe from this mad Black fellow that seemed to be wanting to take Harry away. Sirius Black was supposed to be a Death Eater and serial killer who had helped murder Harry's birth parents, but now that was supposedly water under the bridge. Either way, Tom wasn't going to stand by and let this plot to kidnap his son go down without a fight. Besides, it was a good a time as any to test the new technologies that had been cooked up.

Tom's attention seemed to snap back into focus as the pill did it's work. While the pills wouldn't actually stop an offensive spell, they did work to dampen the effects of magic and were particularly effective against passive mental wards. A few minutes later, the odd old man who had confronted him earlier reappeared, along with the headmaster. Both of them looked rather grim, and Tom remembered that Prewett had commented that Alastor Moody was to be considered armed and dangerous at all times, though he was not typically dangerous to anyone who didn't break the law.

 _I wonder if I've broken any laws turning up here?_ Tom pushed the thought to the back of his mind and forced a grin onto his face, stepping forward and offering a hand to the headmaster. "Headmaster Dumbledore, I hope I'm not too late for Harry's visitation. Thank you for the notice, I understand that this entire situation is a bit sticky legally and I felt that my son shouldn't be left alone with a stranger."

"Quite alright Mr. McAllister," The headmaster said, taking Tom's hand in both his own and giving them a squeeze. His eyes actually twinkled somehow, which made Tom slightly suspicious. He was doing some kind of magic to get that effect. "I do wish you had notified the school you would be coming. We would have provided a chaperone for Harry of course, but you are more than welcome as this is a family matter. Please, right this way."

Tom nodded and followed after Dumbledore, noting that Moody had fallen in behind them. It made the hair on the back of Tom's neck stand up, but he knew Prewett was about, somewhere, and he'd been in situations worse than this with no back up. Though he had been armed before. He'd made a conscious decision to leave his weapons behind, not wanting to give the maggies any reason to deny him entry.

"I must say, I believe you're the first muggleborn parent to ever pay a visit to our school," Dumbledore chatted as they walked along the path by the lake. "You simply must tell me what you think of the view."

Tom glanced out at the lake, having to fight the growing urge to attend to urgent business elsewhere with every step. He hadn't left the oven on. Regimental paperwork could wait. Becky was safe. He popped another pill, ignoring the potential consequences. His eyes seemed to clear a bit, and he realize it wasn't a ruin on the hill across the lake. "Very nice. Reminds me of Alnwick Castle, actually."

"Doesn't look dilapidated to you?" Dumbledore said, turning to wink at Tom. "I've been trying to convince the school board to finance some renovations, you see."

"That west tower there looks like it could use some repairs; the masonry is falling off. The roof looks fairly new though. I confess I'm not an expert in castles though, though it does look like a rather excellent place for a young lad to explore. Harry's told me a bit about his adventures."

Dumbledore did not miss a beat, though Tom heard a snarl from Moody behind him. Let the maggie sulk and try to figure out how he could see through their deceptions. "Yes, the west tower would be the Owlrey. As it doesn't house any classes or students, I'm afraid it's rather low on the priority list for repairs. Still, it's a bit of an eyesore. And who could forget the great service the owls do for us? We can't let their abode fall into repair. A rather poor show of thanks I should think."

"I'm sure Hedwig would agree with you, headmaster."

"Ah! Harry's bird. She's quite a sight. Snowy owls are rather rare here, and even for one of those birds she is a magnificent specimen."

As they made their way towards the castle, Tom heard a cuckoo's call twice. He smiled. It was far too early in the season for those birds to have made it this far north, but not for a certain spy that had replaced a good egg with one of his own. He didn't return the call and blow his cover, but he felt better knowing Prewett was nearby and watching.

The Headmaster lead Tom to the staff room, where Dumbledore was obviously surprised to find Harry along with a greasy haired man waiting.

"Dad!" Harry launched himself into Tom's waiting arms, and for a moment the two simply embraced, the others in the room forgotten. "I didn't think you'd be here," Harry blurted.

Tom gave him a nod and a wink. "Well, you know your old man. Can't keep himself away when he knows he's needed. I've no more pressing business than to be here with you today."

"Indeed," the greasy haired man said. He must be Severus Snape, the first adult wizard spy they'd managed to recruit. Tom stood and offered his hand. "You must be Professor Snape. Harry's written about you. He's quite keen on your class. I appreciate you looking out for him and his mates, even if they do get into a bit of mischief."

Snape sneered and looked at the hand, which Tom lowered with a frown. He hoped Snape was just playing the consummate spy, but he was starting to dislike the greasy git just from his attitude. "Yes, well, educating young mind's like your son is just a joy." The man's tone made it rather clear it drove him to drink instead. "I must be getting back to my duties. Stay out of trouble, McAlister." With a swirl of robes the man was gone, leaving a faint odor of fumes behind him.

"Severus can be a bit caustic with those he does not know well," the headmaster put in. Moody snorted and his non-mechanical eye rolled. Tom was inclined to agree more with the old warriors sentiment than the scholars.

"Well, when is this Black fellow getting here?" Tom said, rubbing his hands. He was still a bit jittery, even with three doses in him his mind wouldn't focus for long unless he forced it.

"He should be getting in via the floo any time now," Dumbledore said. "I was planning on letting Harry accompany him to Hogsmeade for a visit. Escorted by young Nymphadora, of course."

A young woman stepped into the staff room just as Dumbledore was speaking, her hair a very loud bright pink. "It's Tonks, big boss. Just Tonks." Her eyebrows rose when she saw Tom. "And who's this then?"

"This is my dad, professor. Dad, this is Professor Tonks, the one I've written about to you so much? I think she's brilliant. You really should get to know her better." By which Harry ment recruit her of course. Tom was more than willing to help vet her, but Prewett and indicated that broadening their scope at this juncture might not be wise, especially since Tonks was an auror and honor bound to uphold the Statute of Secrecy.

"Wotcher, Mr. McAlister," Tonks said with a grin. Then she suddenly frowned, her hand still extended. "Hey, aren't you a muggle? How'd you get in here?"

"I walked," Tom deadpanned, giving Tonk's hand a firm squeeze. She returned it; a good grip. Tom respected law enforcement, even if they were on the other side, and Tonks seemed to be no different then the boys in blue he knew already.

"Oh, I see where Harry get's his sense of humor then!" Tonks gave both McAlister men a big grin. "So, you still want me to keep an eye on things, boss, bigger boss?"

"Yes," Moody growled at the same time Dumbledore said, "No." The two older wizards exchanged looks for a moment, and to Tom's surprise it was Moody who blinked first. "No, Tonks. Patrol the grounds. I'll be acting as chaperone."

"Er, right. Good to meet you sir. Have fun in Hogsmeade, Harry! The place is a lark."

The young woman left, leaving the room in silence which Harry soon filled with school stories. Tom listened with half an ear, keeping his attention on Dumbledore and Moody. The headmaster was studying Tom carefully, and though Moody's gaze wandered his magical eye was fixed on Tom. It was rather unnerving, but Tom's nerves were made of stern stuff, and he didn't show the tension he felt. Still, his mind started to wander and the room to shimmer, so he surreptitiously popped yet another pill. After about 10 minutes, the fire in the staff room flashed green, and an emaciated man in fine clothes stepped out of the fire. Tom stood, recognizing Sirius Black from his file. Harry moved behind his father, his hand going under his robes where the boy's shoulder holster would be. Tom carefully moved his son's hand, noting that Moody had caught the gesture.

"Mr Black, I presume?" Tom said, not extending his hand this time.

"Yeah, that's me," the man agreed. Standing up and looking around with nervous eyes. "Headmaster. Moody. Who's this other bloke? Is that Harry?"

"That would be Mr. McAlister, Harry's adoptive father," the headmaster said, standing to put a steadying hand on the shoulder of the swaying Black. The man did not look well. His eyes reminded Tom of a young recruits after their first mission turned into a mess and innocents and mates died.

"Harry," Black breathed, coming over quickly. He bent down to Harry's level, ignoring Tom. "You….you look just like James. And your eyes...they're your mother's eyes."

"My mum has blue eyes," Harry said reflexively, then flushed and looked down. "I mean, you know, my adoptive mum."

A look of pain came over Black, but the man forced a smile. "Well, at least you look healthy. I heard you're on the quidditch team?"

"Harry plays for Gryffindor," Tom said. "I haven't been able to make it to a match yet."

The pain was replaced by anger. "You can't even be bothered to come to your own son's quidditch matches?! But you come to keep me away from my godson?!"

"What I'd bloody like to know is how he even managed to get past the anti muggle wards in the first place," Moody growled.

Tom affected an air of innocence and ignored the question, though he could feel the eyes of Dumbledore and Moody on him. Black look startled. "You're a muggle? Then how did you even get here?"

"I walked," Tom said, repeating what he had mentioned earlier. He didn't mention that he'd flown in a heli to just outside the wards; the lodestone hardening on the sensitive electronics still was in the testing phase and not worth the risk, even if it was working for Prewett's torch and other gear.

"Oh." Black rubbed the back of his neck. "Um, sorry. I guess maybe this is a bit more important than quidditch."

"Nothing's more important than quidditch," Harry said. He winked at his dad to show it was a joke. "At least that's what Ron says."

A loud, barking laughter filled the room, and Tom was surprised that the sickly looking Black could make such a hearty sound. "Sounds like James and me back in school. Well, why don't we head off to Hogsmeade, eh? Ever been to Honeydukes?"

"No. Is it alright if we go, dad?" Harry looked to Tom for guidance, and Tom saw Black look resentful again. The man was going to be a problem.

"Yes, I'd rather like to see a magical village. It's the only one in Britain, isn't it?"

The four men walked through the halls, Harry sticking close to his dad and talking animatedly with him. He was polite to Black, answering his questions and making a few polite inquiries about the man's health, but he was far more focused on his father, who he hadn't seen since the Christmas holidays.

Black grew more sullen as they left the grounds, seeming to resent the attention Harry was giving his father over him. Tom tried to strike up a conversation with the man, but it was soon clear that aside from a mutual interest in Harry's welfare, the two men shared very little. Moody was silent, his odd eye roaming around ceaselessly, adding to the awkwardness of the situation.

When they arrived in Hogsmeade, Black seemed to perk up a bit. "James and I spent hours here with our friends, especially at Sprintwishes. There's an old friend of mine and your father's waiting at the Three Broomsticks though, so we'll head there first." Black paused and glared at Tom. "If that's alright with you, that is."

"Fine by me," Tom agreed. He felt slightly ill, probably an aftereffect of the lodestone pill, but he was determined to soldier on.

Inside the quiet pub, Black led them to a table in the far corner where a slightly disheveled man with a scarred face was waiting at an empty table. He stood as soon as he saw them, smiling widely. "Sirius! You're looking well today. And Alastor, I'm surprised you're here. This must be Harry though. I'm Remus Lupin, I was another friend of your fathers. And you are…?"

"Tom McAlister, Harry's father," Tom said, holding out a hand.

Lupin took it, a warm expression on his face to contrast with the dark one on Black's. "We are ever so grateful to you and your family, Mr McAlister. Taking in Harry and giving him a loving home, it's everything that Lily and James would have wanted for their son."

"Thank you," Tom said, at the same time as Black muttered something that sounded less than polite. "What was that, Mr. Black?"

Before Black could say anything Lupin called loudly for drinks. "Have you had Butterbeer before?" he asked Harry and Tom.

"No, but I think I need something a tad stronger." Tom was rather certain a bit of alcohol would help fortify his nerves, though not enough to impair his judgement. "That sounds fine for Harry though."

"I'll have a firewhiskey as well," Black declared, glaring at Tom. Tom bared his teeth in return.

Lupin was soon regaling them all with stories from his time with Harry's birth parents, which the boy was listening to in fascination. Black was sulking slightly, though after a while he managed to contribute something to the tales as well. Tom nursed the whiskey, enjoying the pleasant burn. He wasn't much of a drinker, but he could tell that this was quality stuff. Harry seemed to be enjoying the butter beer as well, though Black was on his third whiskey at this point. Moody was drinking from a hip flask, Tom noted. The man was obviously paranoid, but then again, so was Tom if you got right down to it.

"-so then Lily started beating James over the head with poor thing, screaming about how he'd ruined her project," Lupin laughed.

Black grinned and continued, "Poor James couldn't understand it of course; they'd been told to transfigure the lemons into newts and he'd done that for her! Then the newt just burst, getting it's guts all over both of them."

"Eww!" Harry said, laughing along with the two other men.

"And that's just when old Minnie showed up," Lupin continued. "Lily burst into tears and James quickly confessed that he'd deliberately exploded Lily's newt after she'd transfigured it. He got a detention of course, but Lily got full marks."

"And that's how your father got his first date with your mother," Black finished.

Harry stopped laughing and looked awkward, glancing over at Tom, who gave him an understanding nod. "It's alright son, they were your parents too."

"They are his only parents!" Black snarled, half standing and knocking over his half empty glass of whiskey.

"Sirius," Lupin said in a warning tone.

"No!" Black continued to glare at Tom, who sat with a stony expression on his face. "This man isn't James! He's not Harry's real father, he's a fake, and pretending like-"

Harry was standing how, his own face flushed. "You leave my dad alone!"

"He's not your dad!" Black bellowed, turning to Harry and slamming a fist down on the table that sent all the drinks flying.

Moody was on his feet in an instant, his wand out and pointed at Black. "Sirius, calm down. Now. Or I'll have to take you into custody for disorderly conduct."

"What are you going to do, throw me in prison?" Black was laughing again, though this laughter had a manic edge to it. "Oh wait, that's right, you already did you old fraud! You and all the rest of my old buddies locked me up and threw away the key without even a farce of a trail!"

"Sirius, that's enough. You've had too much to drink." Lupin's tone was firm, and he had a tight grip on Black's collar. He turned to Tom and Harry. "I apologize, he's not well. Azkaban was hard on him. I assure you he's normally a much more genial sort. He'll regret what he said when he's sober."

"And you!" Black turned on Lupin now, his voice going pitiful and ragged. "Why didn't you visit? Why didn't you even ask? Remus, you...you were my friend. Why did you leave me?"

"Not here, not in public Sirius," Lupin said gently. "We've talked about it. We were both guilt ridden and wrong. Say goodbye to Harry, the visits over."

Black slumped over, nodding reluctantly. "I'll see you again, right Harry? Please? You are my magical ward, you know…."

"Perhaps later, when you're well," Tom said forcefully, taking hold of Harry and leading him away. "Good day, Mr Lupin. Black."

Moody stayed behind with the other two, and Tom and Harry quickly made their way back towards the castle. They walked in silence until the village was behind them, Harry shuffling his feet and kicking small rocks. Tom didn't admonish him for not picking his feet up as he normally would, he felt like kicking a few rocks himself. That whole thing had been a disaster, though at least it didn't look like Black would make a grab for Harry's guardianship yet.

"How'd you manage to come here?" Harry asked once they were well away. "I thought the castle kept out norms or something?"

Tom smiled and held up the pill bottle, shaking it slightly. "Father Christmas' little helpers cooked up a little something to solve that problem. They're called Lodestone pills. Act as magical dampeners."

"Wicked."

They walked in silence a bit further, then Harry stopped, scuffing his feet on the ground. "Dad, about...about my birth parents, James and Lily…."

Tom knelt down so he was at eye level with his son and put a hand on his shoulder. When Harry looked up, his eyes were wet, though he was manfully trying to contain his emotions. "Son, they were your parents. They died for you. They loved you just as much as your mother and I do. There is no shame or rejection of us if you love them in return. I'd be rather disappointed in you if you didn't."

Harry sniffed and wiped at his eyes. "Thanks dad. You'll always be my real dad, as far as I'm concerned."

Tom pulled Harry into a hug. "And you'll always be my son. Come what may, we'll be family."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Well, that could have gone better."

Sirius didn't respond, laying on the floor of the shrieking shack and staring at the cobweb ridden ceiling.

"At least Tom was civil to you, despite your little outburst." Remus was sitting on the old dusty bed, ignoring the mess it was making of his clothes.

"I don't like him," Sirius growled. "It can't be good for Harry to live with muggles. It's not safe."

"You mean you want a replacement for James in your life, and he's the most likely candidate."

That hit too close to the truth for Sirius' liking, so he said nothing and closed his eyes. The bed squeaked, and Remus sat down next to him with a sigh. "I've said it before and I'll say it again. I was wrong to abandon you. We were both hurting, but that was no excuse. I thought you were the spy in truth, you thought I blamed you for James and Lily's deaths. It was bad business all around."

"They should have let me kill Peter," Black growled, sitting up and taking out his wand. He absently fingered it, imagining torturing his former friend as he had been tortured all these long years...

"No. Peter got what he deserved. He's locked away, and the Dementors will drive him mad with guilt before long. He'll never hurt anyone again."

"I still think Harry should come stay with me." Black tried not to sound plaintive and pathetic, but it came out as a whine anyway.

"Sirius, you're still not well. Harry has a loving home. Visits should be fine, if you can be civil, but you can't expect to take Harry away from the only family he knows and thank you for it."

"I'm his godfather. I'm his real family!"

Remus put a hand on Sirius' shoulder. "Not to him. To him, you're a rather frightening figure who's come out of nowhere and threatens the balance of his life. Give it time. Heal, and then go into Harry's life as the fun uncle he's always wanted."

Sirius grunted, but he couldn't shake his desire to have James all to himself again. Harry. He meant Harry. That's what James would have wanted, right? For his best friend to care for his son. Not some strange muggle.

 _Authors Note:_

 _It will be a Black day before I don't use a title pun when I can._


	26. Chapter 25

_Chapter 25: A House Divided_

The office looked as though it belonged in a Lisa Frank promotional advert. It was filled with smiling kittens, pink frills, lacy doilies and animated motivational posters that were so saccharine that one had to wonder if anyone would have taken them seriously. At the desk sat a woman in an outfit that matched the room, with a charming smile, dimpled cheeks and lines that could have been laugh or smile lines. Her eyes, however, were cold blue chunks of ice that held no sweetness or remorse.

Lucius Malfoy looked decidedly out of place in the office, with his sever robes, silver headed cane, and austere demeanor. His mouth curled into a sneer as he spoke. "It's true, Delores. Draco saw the muggle with Black and Harry. He was inside of the castle and the grounds."

"That's impossible though!" Delores normally sweetly smiling mouth was twisted into a snarl of disgust and rage. "Muggles, in Hogwarts? They have the best defenses, the very best, against this sort of thing."

"Indeed. It is a most perplexing and vexing development."

"The children are in danger! Our world is in danger. If those filthy things are visiting our most hallowed sites and polluting them with their presence, nowhere is safe!" Umbridge was actually shaking with rage now, her face distorted with anger.

Lucius did his best not to curl his lip even further in disgust at her antics. The woman claimed to be a pureblood, be he had it on good authority that her mother was a muggle and her brother a squib. She was, however, ruthless and politically powerful, and thus he had to court her. She would be most useful if used correctly. "Indeed. This is why the minister must take a harder line. We cannot allow the milk-sop legislation Dumbledore is trying to push through to pass. Taking away the funds of traditional blood purists will only weaken our cause. And the excuse is simply that some of those investigated have a so-called connection with the Dark Lord."

"Yes, quite." Umbridge managed to get herself back under control, but her face was still flushed. "Persecuting wizards of good stock when we have a much greater threat present will do no one any good."

Lucius leaned back and smiled. "You know Delores, if I didn't know you did not seek power, I would say you make a far better minister than Fudge ever has. You are far more decisive and know who your friends are." With that seed planted, Lucius stood and exited the room, leaving behind putrid sweetness.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Ha!" Harry kicked out at Ron's legs, and the other boy leapt back, his wand slashing forward as he shouted, " _Rictusempra_!"

Diving away, Harry fired off a tickling charm of his own, but closed in at the same time, trying to come to grips with Ron. If he could get to grips with the other boy the fight was his, he was far better at hand to hand. Ron in turn fired off a dancing jinx, which struck Harry in his left leg. He began to dance helplessly as Ron leveled his wand for another spell. With a dive forward Harry rolled and came up, allowing his dancing legs to pound at Ron's face. Ron fell backwards, but before Harry could close again he rolled away again.

" _Furnunculus_!"

Harry dived out of the way of the hex and onto Ron, pinning him and managing to get his wand away.

"Winner, Harry!" Tonks stepped forward, preventing further combat and raising her wand to indicate the winner.

Harry rolled over to allow Ron up. The other boy retrieved his wand and canceled his dancing jinx, then shook hands with Harry.

"Almost got me that time," Harry panted.

Ron grinned. "I'll get you yet Harry. Next time for sure."

Next up was the determined looking pair of Hannah and Daphne. Both girls had something to prove; Hannah that she wasn't a pushover, and Daphne that she was powerful enough to be worth being friends with.

The match was similar to Harry and Ron's: Hannah was better and physical combat, Daphne better at slinging spells.

" _Impedimenta_!" Hannah opened up with the slow down jinx, which Daphne dodged and cast her own impedimenta, which went wide.

Unphased, Daphne cried " _Locomotor_ _Wibbly_!" as she back peddled to keep away from the scrappy Hufflepuff.

Jumping into the air over the spell, Hannah pointed her wand back and shrieked " _ventas_!" sending herself flying at Daphne. Her foot connected with the top Daphne's head, and then Hannah grabbed onto the taller girl, trying to put her in a submission hold.

Desperately Daphne jabbed her wand at Hannah, crying," _Evomat_ _earum_!"

Hannah vomited slugs all over Daphne, then punched her in the face, before vomiting again. Daphne tried to wrestle Hannah off of her, but got another spray of slugs all over her hands and arms, making them too slippery to be of much use. With another slug spray, Hannah flopped over, too weakened by the jinx to continue the fight.

"Winner, Daphne! Good try though Hannah, twenty points to Hufflepuff. And one to Slytherin Daphne."

Daphne quickly performed the counter jinx, then helped the smaller girl onto her feet. "Are you alright, Hannah?"

"Urg." Hannah just groaned, her tights a mess of slime and slugs, as were Daphne's. Ignoring the mess, Daphne put her arm around Hannah and got her to a chair, giving her one of the restorative potions that the first years had brewed earlier in the week with Snape. Once Hannah wasn't looking quite so green, Daphne started vanishing the slugs off of both of them. Hermione and Padma came over to assist, while Tonks clapped her hands.

"Right, I think that's enough of you lot beating each other senseless for the day. Let's get the place squared away for the hols."

All the students pitched in without complaint, even Hannah who was mostly over the slugs.

"That was a really impressive use of _ventas_ , Hannah," Daphne said, smiling at the other girl as the rolled up the sparring mats. "I thought it was all over when you jumped across the room like that."

"I guess I didn't hit you hard enough though, that was a really nasty jinx. Where did you learn it?"

The others were all complimenting their sparring partners in turn, glancing up at the leaderboard that Percy had charmed for them. Harry was far and away in the lead, with only two losses to fifteen wins. Both his losses had been to Neville, who was so much larger than Harry that even when Harry got to grips with him victory was not assured. Neville's new wand was performing brilliantly as well, allowing him to keep up with the best of the other spell slingers. He was in second place 12-5, followed by Ron and Blaise, who were tied at 10-6-1. Their last matches against Hermione and Padma respectively had ended in draws. To the consternation of the witches only Hermione was in the top five, with a 9-7-1 record. It was still impressive that she'd managed to hit Ron with a _flippendo_ at the same moment he'd hit her with a cadere, putting both of them out of bounds.

Instead of breaking up and heading to their common rooms, the whole Defense Club made their way out onto the darkening grounds to enjoy the fresh air. It was still brisk; the April nights in Scotland could dip down below freezing at times. Still, with the sun barely set the night was pleasant enough, and they all flopped on the lawn, gazing out over the late.

"Evenin' firsties. I see you lot 'ave been hard at work again, yeah? Got all them funny muggle clothes and what-not."

"Hey Hagrid," Harry said, waving at the giant and his enormous boarhound Fang as they made their way over.

"Anyone care for some tea?" Hagrid asked, hoisting an enormous steaming pitcher and a bag of cups. There was a clamor of agreement, and Hagrid poured out sixteen cups for the students, taking his own tea straight out of the pitcher. The team was rich with milk and honey, and perfect for the chill evening.

"Thanks Hagrid," Neville said, which was echoed by a chorus of voices.

Hagrid grinned and nodded, his eyes sparkling behind his thick beard. "Good to see you lot all workin' together and whatnot. Always thought it was a shame, students hatin' one another jus' coz they was from different houses. A lot of the professors feel the same way, ya know. Even Professor Snape is pleased to see his little snakes havin' a lark with the other houses. Though he don't show it o' course."

Daphne blushed to be singled out like that, but Blaise stood a little taller. "I think everyone should realize that being in Slytherin doesn't make you evil. Just like being in Gryffindor doesn't make you crazy, or Ravenclaw make you a know it all, or Hufflepuff make you boring. There's a lot more to everyone that just the house. If other people are too thick to see that, their loss."

"Well said Blaise, well said." Hagrid settled down on a boulder not far from the students, petting fang and sipping from his pitcher.

"I'll miss the defense club over the Holidays," Anthony said. "My parents are both bankers. Neither of them have any interest in any fighting. Even if my dad does work for Gringotts. You'd think those goblins would rub off on them."

"Who's your mum work for?" Daphne asked.

"Barclays. She's a norm, but knew my dad when they were growing up."

While previously Daphne might have sneered or even made a nasty comment, she just nodded and even smiled at Anthony. " My dad at least will help me practice defense stuff, but I'll miss having all of you around, the Greengrass manor is out in the highlands and there isn't any other magical families around."

"You best watch out, Daphne," Leena said. "Your parents wouldn't be too keen to know you're friends with some of us. I know your mum detests my family since your cousin Thomas married my aunt Henrietta, what with her being a squib and all."

"Have you told your parents you're in the defense club?" Susan asked Daphne.

Daphne flushed and looked down, muttering something.

"Don't feel bad, Daphne," Harry said, smiling at the blond girl. "We've all got secrets we've got to keep. You just remember: even if some people would say blood matters, you've got real friends who don't care about anything other than who you are."

"Thanks," Daphne said, blushing as she glanced up at Harry. She looked over at Hermione. "If they do get angry at me, I just have to remember that the best witch I know is a muggleborn and if that doesn't prove that half of the pure blood stuff is rubbish I don't know what will."

"Too bloody right," Hagrid rumbled from behind, causing most of the students to glance back at him. He flushed and looked away. "I mean, nice weather, ain't it?"

Eventually the night grew too cold and late even for the high spirited students, and everyone trudged back to their common rooms in groups. Harry noticed that Hagrid didn't move from his spot until he was certain everyone was safe inside the castle. The big keeper of the keys seemed to always be about whenever Harry went outside, either puttering around his cottage during the morning runs or walking fang whenever flying class was in session.

"I think Hagrid's looking out for us," Harry remarked as they climbed up the stairs towards the tower.

Lavender rolled her eyes. "Took you this long to figure it out Harry? The man's practically been hovering over you and Neville since Christmas."

"To be fair Lav, I think he's been keeping a sharp eye on all the students since Christmas," Parvati said. "I mean, whenever I go out on the grounds I see him doing something, or Fang will follow me if I get out of sight of him. I think it really bothered him when Dean and Seamus...well, he's very kind hearted."

"Hagrid's a good bloke. Bill and Charlie always told me if I was ever feeling really down he was a good adult to talk to," Ron commented. "Though they did mention not to eat the rock cakes he makes."

Tapping her chin, Hermione pondered aloud, "I wonder if he's spying on us for the headmaster."

Lavender and Parvati looked aghast at the comment, but the three boys took it seriously.

"You know, you might be right. I think Dumbledore got Hagrid his job," Neville said. "He's very loyal to Dumbledore, Gran said he was terrifying in the last war when he got angry."

"But why would the headmaster want to spy on us?" Parvati demanded.

Ron shrugged. "Lots of reasons. He might think we're up to something."

"He just wants to keep all of us safe," Lavender said, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, what's up with the conspiracy theory? It just makes you sound like a nutter."

"Better paranoid than dead." Harry gave his confidants meaningful looks, which just confused Lavender and Parvati further.

Back in the tower everyone headed off to their respective dorms, tired and ready for bed. After a long hot shower, Harry lay down and tried to rid himself of all emotions as Snape had been instructing for the last few months. It was very difficult, forcing thoughts out of his head, but the exercise put him to sleep quickly enough.

In the morning it was down to the train station in muggle clothes. Harry was looking forward to seeing his family again, even after the surprise visit from his dad a few weeks back. He sat in a double compartment with the Gryffindor quidditch team and Ron again, though Hermione and Neville went off with Blaise, Hannah, and Daphne.

"Make sure to use your coins if you need help," Harry urged Neville.

Neville just showed his teeth. "Oh, I hope Draco and his lot try something. It might be fun."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"So Hermione, what sort of things do you do with your parents anyway?" Daphne asked, taking out a brush and stroking her long blonde hair. Unlike most of the others she had on wizarding robes, her family being rather against muggle dress.

"They're taking me to the orchestra over the holidays. We're going to see Handel's Messiah. I've not had much interest in religion previously, but after discovering magic is real it makes one wonder. At the very least, it's supposed to be a masterpiece. Do wizards have very many musical pieces or performances?"

"Well, there's Celestina Warbeck. She's a fairly famous witch, and my parents have taken me to see her in concert. She was OK, I prefer the Weird Sister's personally but my dad can't stand them."

"My Gran loves Warbeck. Aside from her there's only a few magical singers or musicians around that she likes. Don't tell anyone, but she actually loves to listen to Elvis Presley. He was big when she was younger." Neville shrugged when Daphne looked at him blankly. "He's a muggle rock star."

"Muggle music is pretty good," Hannah commented. "The Beatles are my favorite."

"I like Led Zepplin and Slayer." Everyone turned to gape at Blaise, who gave them a wicked grin. "My second step father listened to a lot of heavy metal. My mum got a lot of his albums in the 'divorce'. Muggle music really is one of the better things they've produced."

"You know Zabini, I was wondering if humiliating you was really justified. But hearing you spout off like that about muggle garbage? Malfoy was right. You really need to be taken down a few pegs."

Blaise paled as Marcus Flint, the Slytherin quidditch captain stepped into the compartment, followed by Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy. All four had their wands out, pointed at the five Defense Club members.

"You're going to pay," Malfoy said. Or rather, he got out the "You're" and then Hannah's foot shot out and slammed into his crotch, so the rest of it came out two octaves higher and ended in a shriek.

Then it was pandemonium in the compartment. Blaise and Neville lept onto Flint, who got off one stinging hex before he had to drop his wand and physically beat the two first years off. He was 17, and though he hadn't been practicing martial arts for the past four months, he was twice as large and heavily muscled, and managed to pin the two boys down. Hermione took the opportunity to try a _flipendo_ , on Fint, but he was too large for her hex to do more than take the wind out of him. Gasping, Flint punched Hermione in the nose, rattling her head against the glass and causing it to gush blood.

Crabb and Goyle made the mistake of trying to muscle in on Hannah, ignoring Daphne. She promptly had both of them spewing slugs on the floor, though Malfoy managed to hit Daphne with a weak _furnunculus_. When she turned her wand on him, Flint slammed the back of his hand upside Daphne's head, knocking her out.

With a shriek of rage Hannah pointed her wand, " _Apium! Apium! Apium!_ " Painful stinks sprouted on Flint's arm and face, but he jerked Hannah's wand out of her hand and hit her with several painful singing hexes of his own.

"Get in here you lot, these firsties need to be taught a lesson!"

The rest of the Slytherin quidditch team piled in. Hermione and Neville put up a fight, Neville biting Flint on the hand when he tried to hit him again and Hermione with several tickling charms, though with the blood filling her nose and mouth it was incredible she managed to even get anyone to laugh.

"What do we do, Marcus?" one of the Slytherin beaters asked, jabbing Blaise with his wand and spreading warts all over the younger boy.

"Teach them a lesson they won't soon forget. Nothing permanent, this is all just for fun," Flint snarled. "But give special attention to the two traitors. Consorting with blood traitors and mudbloods is bad enough. But actually giving your loyalty to enemies of our house? That's over the line."

"What are you doing?" the female keeper demanded of Hermione. She was rubbing a coin furiously in her hands, ignoring the dribbles of blood on it. She snatched the coin away. "Oy, this is just a knut, what is-"

The door to the compartment blew open, shards of wood flying everywhere, catching friend and foe alike and causing minor gashes and even a few deep puncture wounds. Howls of pain rage filled the corridor, and then the rest of the Defense Club along with the Gryffindor Quidditch team unleashed a barrage of spells, followed by Harry and Oliver tackling two Slytherins to wail on them with fists.

Marcus was the first of the snakes to respond. Despite a shallow gash on his scalp that was bleeding freely, Flint managed to hex Katie and Alicia with jelly legs, taking them out of the fight.

"To arms! Slytherins to arms!" Flint bellowed as he bodily threw Neville at a charging Fred. "Your house demands your service!"

Compartments burst open as more than Slytherins burst into the corridors, wands at the ready. The trolley witch hid behind her cart as every student on the train seemed to start fighting at once. Ravenclaws battled Hufflepuffs over old grudges while Gryffindors tussled with Slytherins out of a matter of honor. Even the prefects soon gave over trying to establish order when Percy saw one of his brothers bleeding from a shard of wood and began hexing every Slytherin he could find, including one of his fellow prefects. Penelope Clearwater came to Percy's aid, crying out, "Badgers with the Lions! Their attacking our firsties!" Having seen Hannah's horrific boil covered face as she head butted the Slytherin seeker in the chest.

Seeing the Badgers take up the cause of the Lions, the Eagles flew to the Serpents aid, the humiliating results of their last quidditch game where the 'puffs had crushed the 'claws fresh in their minds, along with the long rivalry between the self proclaimed smartest and the self proclaimed hardest working houses fueled into rage due to the blatant favoritism of the new DADA professor.

The nexus of the maelstrom centered around the Gryffindor and Slytherin quidditch teams, along with the Defense Cub. Harry was on Flint now, grabbing the big boys hand when he punched at Harry and swiftly snapping the elbow joint, one of the easiest joints in the body to cause great pain to.

Padma and Parvati were back to back, hexes and jinxes flying in all directions as they were assaulted by students from every house. They went down under a barrage of spells from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff quidditch teams, which then turned on one another, casting aside wands to beat with beater sticks and brooms.

Flint howled in rage and slammed his fist down, trying to hit Harry in the head. He found Angelina Johnson there to block it with her own arm, then she shoved her wand in Flint's face and roared, " _Genua_ _transibit_!" Flint's legs folded up underneath him as his flesh was forcibly bound together, and he flopped to the floor where Harry kicked him in the head to stun him.

Then Crabb and Goyle hurled themselves at Angelina, their combined weight dragging her down while they pounded her head as she tried to curl up and cover her vitals. Malfoy's cutting curse slashed into Harry's forearms, and he was forced back from the pain of the blow. He tried to roll away, but another cutting curse bit into his shoulder, causing his wand arm to go limp and numb. For a moment, Harry considered drawing his gun. He was legitimately in fear of his life, and the lives of his friends were clearly in danger as well. Hermione was now unconscious and bleeding, Ron was curled up into a ball coughing up yellow pus after a rather dark curse had hit him. Instead, he pointed his wand and Malfoy. " _Flipendo_!" Malfoy was knocked back a pace, and before he could recover Harry charged and kicked at Draco's right knee with all his might. There was a snapping sound, and Draco collapsed.

Suddenly, a white gas filled the corridor, and the students began coughing and choking.

"Sleeping fog!" Someone cried, and the students all tried not to breath. The fog soon overpowered them though, and the train was filled with still bodies breathing shallowly. Many of them sported minor or even serious wounds, and the train ground to a halt as the fog faded and vanished.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

 _Authors Note:_

 _Nightmare trolley witch is frankly terrible fanfiction that I really wish I had never read about._


	27. Chapter 26

"Father, it was all McAlister's fault. We were just checking on two of our housemates who were sitting with some of his cronies, when he and the Gryffindor quidditch team blew up the door and started cursing all of us."

Harry's face flushed, though it was still pale from blood loss. "That's a lie and you know it! You were all beating on my mates, including Blaise and Daphne! Hermione summoned me with the special coin Percy had made to let us know they were in danger and I brought everyone with me because I knew they were hurt!"

The two boys started shouting at one another, their respective fathers glaring at the other menacingly, their grips on their sons tight, with their other hands on weapons. Tom's was under his jacket, Lucius' on his cane. Both looked ready to kill.

"Enough!" The Headmaster was furious, his voice filling the entire station and silencing even the whimpers of pain from the more severely wounded students. Dumbledore glared around at the Defense club and the Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch teams. "It is clear that however this started, it escalated quickly into an out and out brawl. Almost every student was injured, some of them quite severely including Harry and Draco. There will be a full investigation, and a reckoning for this. Hogwarts is a place of learning, and just because the Holiday's had started does not give you license to turn her or her train into a battlefield! There are few, if any, innocent parties in this matter. Your heads of houses will investigate and report to me directly. I shall then met out punishment as I see fit. I am terribly disappointed in you all. Now let us part our ways that time may heal our wounds. Madam Wainscott will tend to those lightly injured, Professors Flitwick and Sinestra will take the more severely wounded to Saint Mungo's."

Before he left, Dumbledore regarded Harry and Neville with a look of clear hurt and disappointment. Harry resisted the urge to glare back defiantly, remembering what Snape had told him and dropped his gaze as if in remorse. He didn't look up until his father had walked him away from the bustle.

The Weasleys, Grangers and Longbottoms joined the McAlisters as they stepped out of the portal. There was an uneasy feeling throughout the station. Passengers heading for trains were either hurrying through or finding another way to get where they were going. Grim men and women were standing with instrument cases and suitcases half opened and ready. Several officers had arrived, actually carrying firearms.

Making a snap decision, Tom turned to the Weasley's and Madam Longbottom. "Make a decision fast. If the safety of your children is more important to you, come with me and mine and know that you'll be safe, no matter what happens in the coming days and weeks. If however being a wizard and keeping the magical world as it has been for a thousand years is more important, leave now, and no hard feelings."

"What are you-" Arthur began, but Molly was at his side, putting her hand on his arm.

"Arthur, look around. These don't seem like normal muggles to me. And just look at our sons. Their all hurt, and badly. It's like...it's like the war again. And my brothers...I can't go through that again. Not with my babies. We should go with him."

Arthur scanned the crowd, his hand falling onto his wand. Something was definitely up. He didn't look it, but the pot bellied, balding man with the spectacles and friendly smile had killed in his time, and nearly been killed. He could recognize fellow warriors when he thought to look for them, and the way the supposed passersby were holding themselves at the moment sent every old instinct of his railing that he was in immediate danger, as was his family. Molly, being naturally more suspicious of everyone and anything, had already picked up on it.

"Go with Harry, dad," Ron rasped, his lower face still stained as yellow bile dripped from his lips. "It's important."

That sealed it for Arthur. His youngest had already almost died once. That was enough. "Right, where do we go, Tom?"

Madam Longbottom stepped forward without a word, her own wand out. "I don't know what's going on, but I already lost a son and a daughter. I'm not losing Neville, and he was nearly killed back there. What are you proposing sir?"

"To take you all to a place of safety, and make sure your kids get the treatment they need away from the lot that just nearly murdered them."

"That is agreeable," Augusta said, dropping her wand arm.

Tom nodded. "Right. French, Baker, Meadows, get their wands." Two men and a woman stepped forward from the crowd. Two violin cases and a suitcase were on the ground behind them, guns in hand but concealed from casual glances by handkerchiefs or a purse. "You'll get them back if we know you're alright. Ron and Neville can keep theirs. The rest of you pass them over and quick."

Augusta Longbottom glared at Tom, but gave her wand over anyway seeing that she was clearly outmatched. Once Molly gave her wand to Ms. Meadows, the rest of the Weasley's complied as well.

"Right, this way." Tom led the way to two waiting black vans, which everyone was loaded into. They drove away from the station, but after only a few minutes they stopped in an underpass, and everyone was escorted into one of two identical double decker buses.

"But our things-" Molly began, but she stopped when Ron put a shaking hand on her arm.

"It's OK, mum. Harry's dad's got a plan."

This time they drove through the twisting streets of London for quite a while, before arriving at an ordinary set of office buildings in the northern outskirts. Everyone piled out once they pulled into a parking garage, where uniformed officers were waiting.

"We think you're in the clear sir," a man with a captain's uniform said. "But don't dawdle. We think we're ready for you, though the Iron Lady isn't happy with the sudden change to the plan."

Tom looked grim as he examined the various wounds the youths all bore. "Neither am I. Is Doctor Patil here?"

"He's teams in the medical unit prepped for immediate aide sir."

"Right, let's get the children there right away." Tom led the way into the office buildings, where behind closed doors a full trauma unit was prepared. All the students were taken into the care of the doctors and nurses.

"Is muggle medicine really going to be able to help?" Molly asked, slightly panicked. "We should have just gone to Saint Mungo's and-"

"We believe Saint Mungo's to be compromised," a familiar voice said. "Hello, cousins."

"Charles?" Molly gasped, spinning to see her second cousin standing there in an SAS uniform. "But, the boys said you quit the muggle world and were working at Hogwarts."

"I am working at Hogwarts," Sergeant Prewitt agreed. "Or I was, things may change. Come on, I was called in to brief you. Hopefully if you won't trust the Major, you will me."

The three adults maggies were lead into a large conference room. At the head of the table sat a elegant looking older lady with light brown hair.

"Lady Thatcher," Tom said, bowing slightly. Prewitt did the same, both overdoing the courtesy to drive home the status of the Director.

Augusta Longbottom inclined her head as she was introduced, Arthur jerked an awkward bow, and Molly flushed and just nodded, her eyes flashing towards where her children had been. The Grangers inclined their heads, their faces pale and drawn by the stress of seeing their daughter so injured by magic.

"Please be seated," the Iron Lady said, indicating chairs. "We'll start with a group interview. If everything goes well, I expect you'll be getting your wands back shortly. If not, well, neither you nor your children are in any immediate danger. I hear the Falklands are lovely this time of year."

Everyone sat, several soldiers taking up guard posts just outside the closed door.

"Sergeant, I shall allow you to give your briefing first, as you need to return to your duties as soon as possible to avoid suspicion."

"Thank you ma'am. As I am sure you are all aware of by now, there is something very wrong at the heart of magical Britain. There are still good witches and wizards, and I think I can count my cousins and Madam Longbottom among the number. However, those who oppose the sickness seem to be increasingly outnumbered. No, I'm not talking about one Dark Lord, or even an incompetent Minister for Magic, though God only knows we have those. I'm talking about the blatant racism and classism revolving around the Blood Purity ideology."

Arthur nodded his agreement, Molly looked slightly perplexed at what her cousin was going on about still, and Madam Longbottom pressed lips together, her eyes calculating.

"Hogwarts is just the latest focal point for the Blood Purist attacks. Ten years ago it was the Death Eaters and Darth Stupidus."

"Who?" Augusta Longbottom interrupted, looking taken aback.

Prewitt chucked. "Sorry ma'am, it's something the kids have come up with. We've been informed that it's magically speaking unwise to say the name, and You-Know-Who is just so cumbersome. Darth Stupidus has rather taken off in the Regiment and with Maggie Works personnel."

Arthur put a hand over his mouth to hide a grin, while Molly harrumphed loudly. "Get to the point. My boys are hurt, and Ginerva is scared witless."

"Rebecca will take good care of your daughter, never fear Molly," Tom assured her.

"Right," the Sergeant continued, "well, the point is, the Blood Purists have been long actively targeting and killing norms and maggies with mundane heritage. The last war was so wrought with violence that Her Majesty's Government has taken notice. With the return of Darth Stupidus on the horizon, the faction at the Ministry of Magic that is most vocal about blood purity has regained a great deal of strength and Blood Supremacists at large have become far more vocal. This attack on the students associated most with the banishment of Darth Stupidus is only a peek at the terrible things lurking below the surface. I am quite certain that Dumbledore will crack down and school and that further severe incidents will not and cannot happen at Hogwarts or on the train. However, that does not mean that small acts will not still occur that can hurt the children. I can't be everywhere at school, and neither can Hagrid, though he's the Headmaster's man through and through. Both do have the best interests of the children at heart. We just have very different ideas about what their best interests are."

"And what do you deem their best interests to be?" Madam Longbottom demanded.

"To stop hiding their wondrous powers under the proverbial bushel and shine their light for all to see," Thatcher answered. All eyes turned to her. "The Statue of Secrecy once existed to protect wizards from muggles and muggles from wizards. It is now no longer accomplishing that. It does not protect muggles but gives wizards carte blanche to act against them without real fear of reprisal. It does protect wizards, but not from unfair persecution but justice."

Augusta stood up, her nostrils flaring. "You would punish everyone for the acts of those maniacs? You are no better than the Death Eaters then! I may not have my wand, but a Longbottom does not go quietly into that good night!"

"You mistake our meaning," Tom said. "We want the magical world to come into the light. We want wizards to live and work alongside us. We want the law to apply equally to everyone, maggie or muggle. And we want to be able to protect your children so that they don't have to fight in the same damn war that claimed so many of their elders."

Augusta sat back down, looking surprised. "You don't hate or fear us?"

"I don't really hate anyone but the bastard who murdered my son's birth parents," Tom said. "And perhaps the bloody Wallabies for taking away the rugby championship."

"I-what?" August could only blink at the tail end of Tom's statement.

"Think of it as our version of quidditch," Tom said, giving Augusta a wink. "But that's not entirely relevant. No, we don't hate wizards. My son is a wizard after all, and I love him more than life itself. I want a good future for him, one where he doesn't have to hide in the shadows or live in fear because he was adopted by people who don't have a wand."

"But how could you overthrow the ministry?" Arthur demanded. "How would you keep our children safe?" Molly nodded her agreement on the last question.

"Originally we had no intention of overthrowing the Ministry," Thatcher said. "I'll let the Sergeant catch you up on what are plans are and were."

"At first, we wanted to find some likely students at Hogwarts, convince them that they could make the world a better place by using their magic for the good of all, and have them generate political will and influence for us that would result in a gradual policy change at the Ministry, hopefully by having some of them become high officials in the ministry. At this point, that plan is considered non-viable. Instead, we want to get the children trained and keep them safe so that when the war resumes we can take swift, decisive action to take out the Blood Purists and topple the ministry. You may have heard that Major McAllister here was at Hogwarts about a month and a half ago?"

There were nodded, and the Sergeant gave them a wicked grin. "We've developed methods to either dampen magic or to fool it into thinking someone is magical. The pills could have long term nasty effects due to some of their components, some of which are heavy metals or radioactive-"

"What?" Alice demanded, going white then glaring at her husband. "Why didn't I know about this?"

"Because it was more important that I be there for Harry," Tom said, putting a hand on his wife's shoulder. "I was willing to take the risk for him. Someone had to test the pills and the special headgear."

"You'd risk death to help Harry?" Molly asked. When Tom nodded, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I've never been terribly political myself. I didn't fight in the last war on the front lines. I helped by taking care of the wounded, managing supplies and providing food. But once my brothers died, I did take part in a few battles. That's not anything I ever want any of my children to experience. I'd do anything to help them. Even overthrow the statute of secrecy."

Arthur was silent. He looked grim and contemplative, but he didn't disagree with his wife.

Augusta rested her head in her hands, looking shaken. "My Nevvy almost died last winter. He's all I have left. My husband was killed by death eaters for protecting muggleborns. Frank and Alice were tortured into madness. My brother is a drunk who has far too many nightmares from what he witnessed. I don't believe that overthrowing the statute of secrecy is the right thing to do. But it is clear to me that Albus can't really protect Neville anymore, not if the Ministry is really so deeply in the pocket of the old Death Eaters, which based on what I've seen is likely to be the case. Lucius Malfoy is a top advisor to the Minister, and Umbridge may not be a Death Eater but she's so adamant about blood purity she may as well be one. Please, Arthur, tell me I'm wrong about this."

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat uncomfortably. "No, Augusta. You're not. I've, well, I've come under fire at work for my beliefs myself. Fudge feels like his power base is threatened, and he seems me as a representative of that. If he were in my position and his son had helped banish You-Know-Who, he'd play that for all the political capital he could. He seems me as a threat, as someone who is building friends and influence to challenge him."

"You've never mentioned that!" Molly cried. "And Arthur dear, we both know that you'd never even dream of becoming minister. You love your job too much."

"That's not what Fudge sees. I hate to speak ill of my superiors, but he's never been a very brave or confident man. His position now is even more tenuous that Dumbledore has started to apply more pressure to have measures taken that would reduce or eliminate He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's power. Many of those people who would be swept up in such action were donors to Fudge's campaign like Lucius Malfoy. He's quibbling and stalling, taking half measures like having those Death Eater's already in Azkaban's asset's frozen, or playing up the show trial of Pettigrew. He's not actively hunting for Death Eaters or You-Know-Who. He's trying to cover the whole thing up in the hopes everyone will forget about it."

"Then it is as I feared." Augusta lowered her head. "The Order is full of aging wizards and witches who are past their prime. I include myself and both of you in that number, Arthur and Molly. Dumbledore lacks the forces or political power to mount an effective campaign this time around. And we nearly lost last time."

"Which is why Her Majesty's Committee on Magical Affairs has been formed. We are here to curb all threats to British Citizens, be they magical or mundane," Thatcher said.

"I'm the man on the ground at Hogwarts," Prewitt explained. "I keep an active eye on the students while they are there and have the capacity to take direct action if they are threatened, as well as keeping everyone informed about what Dumbledore's plans are. We'd like to recruit him to our side, but he has a known bias that muggles cannot be wholly trusted and have to be protected for their own good. Along with one other agent in place, I keep the children safe at school."

"But what could you do against a magical attack?" Molly asked. "Don't tell me you muggles have come up with some wonder pill to make you totally immune to spells. I wouldn't believe it."

"That is because you are not nearly as stupid as some of your spawn are."

The Weasleys and Augusta reached for wands they didn't have as they stood to face the man who had just stepped through the door.

"You!" Augusta said, clenching her fists at her side. "I knew this was all some plot to destroy us! They're all your puppets, still serving your precious Dark Lord after all these years!"

"As much as I hate to disabuse you of your delusions," Snape said silkily, "I am actually here to help. And to meet my employers for the first time." He nodded to Thatcher. "Lady Thatcher. I trust the information I have provided has been of use to your organization."

"Indeed, Professor Snape, it has," Thatcher agreed. "Professor Snape apparently sussed out young McAlister's plans early on, and has decided to throw his lot in with us."

"You can't be serious!" Molly half shrieked. "This man has tormented my boys for years! He's an uncouth, horrid-"

"Snape's alright, mum," Ron rasped, hobbling into the room along with the rest of the children, even Percy who had suffered greatly from spells and blows after diving to his siblings aide.

Parents and Grans rushed to their children's side, hugging them and assuring them that it was going to be alright. It took several minutes for things to calm down, and it was only when Sergeant Prewitt called that he and Snape needed to go or blow their cover that order was restored.

"Suffice to say that I do not believe McAlister and his clique to be wholly incapable of effecting change," Snape said before he departed. "They have managed to even include some of my own house in their schemes, though only little Weasley, Longbottom and Granger know the whole thing. Dark times may be ahead, but perhaps there is yet hope that some of us may survive this." With that he and Prewitt departed to continue their duties as spies.

"This is all coming on very fast," Molly said, stroking Ron's hair. He had flatly refused to sit in her lap, compromising by sitting between her and his father. "But as I've said I'll do anything to keep my family safe. If throwing in our lot with you is going to give them the best chance, I'll do it."

"I'm not sold on that yet," Arthur said. "Perhaps you do have a plan, but Dumbledore has experience with taking down Dark Lords. You do not. I'm very interested in how muggles do things, but I don't understand it or rely on it. You-Know-Who is a very powerful wizard. I've never seen any muggle science or weapons that could hope to compare to him."

"Dad, you do know they've been to the moon, right?" Fred asked.

George nodded. "Loads of times. Even have golems or something on Mars and flying around towards Jupiter and such."

Arthur blinked. "Really?"

Fred and George nodded together. "Yes. We've done the maths."

"They can do it alright, and they've done it before."

"Though we do admit-"

"-we never really thought-"

"-that ickle Harrykins-"

"-and his toy soldiers-"

"-were really so serious-"

"-about turning into dark wizard hunters."

"Do try and warn us next time Hermione-"

"-we almost missed out on all the fun!"

"That was hardly fun. Ron almost got himself killed," Percy snarled. Fred and George looked slightly abashed, though both of them had enormous bandages around their left eyes that made them look very piratical.

"Neville, do you really think we can trust the muggles?" Augusta asked.

Neville nodded slowly. "I think so. I also think maybe they have a better chance at fighting than we thought Gran. Harry's shown us some really good fighting techniques, and if his guns and stuff are half as good as he claims they are they could be pretty dangerous." He swallowed and looked his grandmother in the eyes. "And also, I think we owe it to everyone not to let what happened to my mum and dad happen to anyone else ever again."

Augusta looked across the table at Arthur; Molly had already made her decision. Arthur looked at his family, at the wounds his sons sported, then over at Tom. The man was an imposing figure, tall and well muscled, with an aura of impending action about him. He looked back at Augusta and nodded, then turned to Thatcher. "So what do you want us to do?"


	28. Chapter 27

_Chapter 27: The Ties that Bind_

Ron held on for dear life, absolutely certain he was going to throw up and die, and maybe not in that order. Violent winds surrounded him and the noise was deafening as the metal death trap clattered and spewed toxic fumes.

"This is amazing!" his dad shouted in his ear. "I've always dreamed of flying in an aeroplane!"

Ron moaned and hung his head. Harry was mad. His father was mad. The whole bloody world was mad, and he was on the side of the madmen.

Harry's voice came over the headset Ron was wearing. "Actually, this is a helicopter; it's a rotary craft. It's not a fixed wing aircraft, so it's not really an aeroplane."

"Harry, helicopters are still aeroplanes. They still fly on wings, the wings are just the rotors instead of fixed like in a jet," Hermione lectured.

"Who bloody cares," Ron muttered, then vomited into the bag he'd been provided.

Before long the bloody monstrosity, whatever it was, landed at their destination. "Welcome to Catterick Garrison," the pilot called as the noise from the thing finally died away.

Ron just moaned and flopped off onto the ground. "Why couldn't we take a broom?"

"Why that was wonderful Ronald! I believe we may be the first wizards to ever ride on a helicopter! Simply astounding what these muggles can do, eh? I think we may have a fighting chance after all." Ron's father helped him to the ground, his bright smile highly irritating to his still ill son.

"Yeah Ron, that was pretty brilliant. I can't believe you're moaning about this. Don't you like flying on a broomstick? How could this be much different?" Ginny looked innocent when she asked the question, but Ron caught the mischievous gleam in her eye.

"Because a broom stick doesn't bloody well sway about like that or make that much noise or stink like a potions lab," Ron grumbled. He looked over at his mum, who looked faintly green as well. Percy was supporting her, looking annoyingly chipper.

"Alright, recruits, assemble over here," one of the uniformed soldiers, Ron thought it was probably Baker, called. The Weasley family made their way over, along with the Grangers, Longbottoms and McAlisters. Neville looked slightly ill as well, though Harry and his sister looked hale as ever.

"Right. This way." The group followed the soldier to a square building where several more soldiers, these with a great deal of badges and ribbons on their chests were waiting.

"Do we get our wands back now?" Augusta demanded of Tom as she came in the door. Tom made a shushing motion. He'd changed into his own uniform, and Harry was wearing some sort of uniform as well, one with crossed wands as the unit badge.

"Attention!" one of the guards shouted from the opposite door way. All the soldiers snapped to attention, raising their hands in salute. "Presenting Her majesty Elizabeth Alexandra Mary, Elizabeth II, by the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of her other realms and territories Queen, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith!"

Ron immediately tried to stand up straight, glancing nervously at his mum who had paled then tried to curtsy as a woman Ron faintly recognized from muggle money stepped into the room, dressed in a splendid dress of red with a matching hat on her head. Ron made a hasty bow, not really certain what was expected of him. Was he a subject of the muggle queen? He wasn't really sure, but he did know that his mum would kill him if he made an arse out of himself.

"Rise," the Queen said, and Ron jerked his head up, flushing and shooting a quick glance at Hermione. She was as flushed as he was, and locked eyes with him for a moment. She mouthed "wow" to which Ron jerked a nod, then turned his attention back to the queen.

"It has come to Our attention that some of Our magical subjects wish to renew their allegiance to the crown. This is a momentous event, as since the creation of the Statute of Secrecy, the Crown as had little to no influence over Our magical subjects. While originally this may have been for the best, recent events have led Us to believe that the two worlds can no longer remain separate. Those who wish to serve Great Britain and all her people, you will have your wands restored to you." Ron unconsciously touched his own jeans, where his wand still rested in his pocket. He saw Neville doing the same, and gave him a curious look. Why had they been allowed to keep theirs when their families had not?

"Ronald Bilius Weasley, Neville Frank Longbottom, Harry James McAllister, Hermione Anne Granger, step forward."

Swallowing, Ron stepped forward along with his friends.

"Kneel, and present your wands," Harry's dad said softly.

Ron dropped to one shaking knee and held out his wand. He glanced at Hermione to see how she was doing it, then quickly held it out in two hands instead of pointing it at the queen and looked back down. He felt the queen's hand briefly brush his wand handle.

"Repeat after me," Major McAllister said. "I, your name, swear by Almighty God that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, Her Heirs and Successors, and that I will, as in duty bound, honestly and faithfully defend Her Majesty, Her Heirs and Successors, in Person, Crown and Dignity against all enemies, and will observe and obey all orders of Her Majesty, Her Heirs and Successors, and of the generals and officers set over me."

Ron repeated the oath, not entirely certain what he was doing. When he finished, he gasped as he felt his magic react. A stream of golden sparks flew out of the four children's wands, enveloping them and the sovereign in a golden glow. Ron felt as though an enormous piece of twin bound itself over his wand arm to the hand of the queen. He grunted as the sparks suddenly vanished. The sensation of being bound to the queen faded, but remained a niggling sensation at the back of his mind.

"The Unbreakable oath," Ron heard his dad say into the silence that followed. "But the words...that was no spell. And forgive me, but I don't think her majesty is any sort of witch."

"There are older and deeper magics than we always remember, Arthur," Augusta declared, stepping forward. "Magics that are a part of the land, and of blood. And of the crown and she who wears it. I didn't imagine something like this would happen or I would have forbidden Neville to bind himself so to anyone. But what's done is done." Augusta looked the queen straight in the eye, drawing herself up. "Return my wand to me and I shall take the same oath, provided we get one in return."

"You cannot demand that her majesty-" one of the officers with a great many ribbons on his uniform began, but he halted when the Queen raised a silencing hand.

"Let her speak her mind. It is long since those of the magical world considered themselves subjects of the crown, and We would hear what Madam Longbottom has to say."

"Thank you, your Majesty. I would have you swear that you and your servants would treat and govern those magical and mundane equally in the eyes of the law and treatment, that one would not be favored over the other nor one compelled to serve the other as slaves."

Some of the officers bristled as such naked distrust of the Queen and her government, but her Majesty only nodded.

"We swear to govern all our subjects, magical and mundane, with an equal hand. We shall extend the Law and Justice with Mercy in equal measure to all our subjects, and shall never compel any to servitude without their own knowing consent, and for their service they shall receive a fair and just reward."

Augusta nodded. "Good enough for me. Where's my wand?"

In the end, all the Weasley's and Augusta also took the oath. Even Ginny, who mum claimed was far too young to try to be a hero.

"She's a part of this war whether we want her to be or not," dad had told her quietly. "And she wants to take it. You know she's been talking about wanting to help Rebecca and the other muggles for months now. And You-Know-Who and his followers are going to be after her. She's in it now, Mollywobbles, whether we want it or not."

Rebecca McAllister took an oath as well, though no golden sparks surrounded her when she did so. The Grangers declined military service themselves, though they did reaffirm their allegiance to Kingdom and its democratic values.

"We're actually Republicans," Mr. Granger confessed, blushing and looking very embarrassed. "I didn't think it was right to forbid Hermione to swear an oath, she's capable of making her own choices, but you see…"

"That's quite alright." The Queen had actually smiled and winked at Mr. Granger. "I quite understand. I respect the right of all the citizens of the United Kingdom to their own personal beliefs and freedoms."

And then the queen was gone, along with most of the more pompous soldiers, leaving behind Harry's dad, who was rather flustered looking. He had a new four pointed star on his uniform, though Ron wasn't quite certain what that meant. "Right. We have to make a decision: Do the kids go back to Hogwarts? Personally, I have faith in Sergeant Prewitt, and even in Professor Snape, that they can keep the kids safe while at school. However, there is more than just their safety to consider: there is also their education, the safety of their peers, and of course the fate of the school itself."

"How can you even consider sending them back?" Ron's mum and Hermione's mum said at roughly the same time.

Gathering his courage, Ron turned to face his mother. "Mum, what about Daphne? She fought tooth and nail to help us, and she's in Slytherin. Her housemates came to murder her and Blaise, and they're my mates. I have to go back, to make sure that they're OK. I can't leave them."

"You are more important to me than-" Molly began, but Ron cut her off.

"And what about Daphne's parents? What about Blaise's? Or Hannah, or Padma and Parviti, or Susan or Ernie or Terry or Michael or Leanne? They're all my friends, they all have families, and they're all going to be in danger. We have to go back to help them."

"You are eleven! A child shouldn't be sent to fight a dangerous war!"

Percy stepped forward, putting a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Then what about me?"

"Or us," Fred and George chorused.

Molly looked around at her sons, her expression stricken. "But you're all my babies," she whispered.

"They're not going into combat, Mrs. Weasley," Alice said gently. "They're going to be protected by your cousin and by Snape, and probably the Headmaster and other professors too. They just want to look out for their friends."

"And build valuable political alliances while they are at it," Augusta said. She nodded at Neville approvingly. "The Greengrasses are an old and well respected family, deep in the Pureblood Party. If you can sway them to our side, that's a deep blow to the enemy. Making friends with their eldest daughter is a good way to do that. And Griselda Zabini is a mean political manipulator as well. Make an ally of her precious son and heir and you'll have her on your side in a moment, and her criminal empire."

"I thought she was a solicitor or barrister!" Hermione gasped.

Augusta shrugged. "She is that, but she's also the head of the Magical Mafia in Britain."

"Wow. That sounds like something out of a really bad movie," Becky commented. "But can we get a move on this. Hey, Weasleys, raise your hand if you'd sneak off to Hogwarts just to help your mates and fight the baddies again."

All the Weasley children raised their hand, including Ginny, who glared at their mother definitely.

"But-but-" Ron's mum sputtered. Dad put his hand on her shoulder.

"They're just like you, dear. Rushing off headfirst into danger to protect those they love. What was it you told Dumbledore when he said you had no business avenging your brothers?"

"To sod off and that I'd hang Grisella Notts head on a pike," Molly muttered.

"And did we hang Grisella Notts' head on a pike, dear?"

"Well no, it was rather crushed by her roof falling in, but Arthur-"

"You and mum killed Grisella Nott?" Percy demanded, looking flabberghasted. "She was a notorious Death Eater, she took on four aurors in a duel and won!"

"We didn't fight her, Percivale, we just collapsed her roof and set the house on fire," Molly said. "Really, fighting her toe to toe would have been very foolish. Just as foolish as straying back into the lion's den!"

"We are lions though," Ginny declared. When Fred and George snorted at that statement, Ginny stamped on their toes. "I will be in Gryffindor and you know it!"

"Ouch, alright Ginnykins, alright!"

"We're going back, mum," Ron declared. "I'm not standing by while I see more of my friends murdered!" He shuddered, thinking of the empty eyes of Dean and Seamus. "And it's not like we'll be alone. We're Weasleys, and we look out for one another."

"All for one and one for all!" Becky declared. "Right, so, dad, what's the training we're up to? Please tell me I get a grappling hook, I really want a grappling hook. Oh, and to fast rope off a heli!"

"Harry, your sister is mental," Ron muttered to his friend.

"And hot," George observed.

Harry and Ron both looked aghast at George. He just grinned and winked at them. "Give it a few years kiddos, you'll see what I mean."

"Not on your bloody life," Harry vowed. "She's my sister. That's just disgusting."

Ron and the rest of the Weasley brood were swept up in their mother's arms. Her face was wet with tears, but she smiled at them. "I'm so proud of you all. Terrified, but proud. You have to promise me you won't go looking for trouble, and that you'll get a teacher or cousin Charles at the first sign of trouble, you hear?"

"Yes mum," they all chorused.

Tom nodded at seeing everyone resolved to return to Hogwarts. "Very good. Let's get to training then."

Previously, Ron had thought that the training with Harry and the others every morning and again on Sunday's was fairly difficult and intensive. The next two weeks quickly disabused him of that notion. It wasn't just physical, though there was still a morning run and exercises every day, but mental. The lessons on small unit tactics for use if they were ambushed at school largely made sense to Ron. It was a bit like chess, having to think of the strength of each of your pieces and your opponents, where everyone was on the board, what your opponent's strategy was and how to counter it were just faster and more pressing. Taking the terrain into account as well as surprise added depth that Ron enjoyed. He quickly understood how having the higher ground could be a force multiplier, and the wisdom of using suppressing fire to hold your opponent down while you're faster pieces moved in to strike from safety. He was by no means a master of small unit tactics by the end of the course, but he could help formulate or foil simple ambushes.

There was also the crash course in codes. They all had to learn morse, as few if any wizards had any familiarity with the muggle code. Hermione and Percy picked it up easily, but Ron struggled to make sense of the dots and dashes. Harry was very helpful as he had already learned morse ages ago, but Ron was quite certain he was going to have nightmares about dots and dashes for months before he ever really got the hang of it.

The most interesting part though came the last weekend before the Holiday was over.

"This is an Enfield .22 caliber training rifle," Lt. Col. McAlister said, holding the weapon in his hands. "It is bolt action and magazine fed. Some would tell you that this an under powered peashooter. They would be wrong. This is a weapon, with only one purpose: to kill. It can be used to kill small animals, or men. Do not treat this weapon as a toy, for it is not. Remember that this weapon is always loaded, even if you believe it to be safe. You have experience with wands, so you understand that a tool can wield great power. Do not mistake this for a wand: it cannot be used for anything but violence. As such, you should never, ever, under any circumstances, point this or any other weapon at an opponent unless you are willing to kill them."

"This is not an action movie, where you can blast something out of your enemies hands or shoot only to injure or incapacitate. I have spent 37 years as a soldier, and am considered to be in the top percent of marksmen even now. Speaking from experience, once you are in a combat situation, such displays of skill and daring go out the window. You are fighting for your life, and the lives of your comrades. When you pull the trigger, you must be willing to live with the consequences."

"Today is just the first part of your training with a gun. No, you will not be issued your own firearm even when you go back to Hogwarts or return to your home. Not until you are fully qualified with firearms will we even consider giving you a weapon. You will notice that Harry and Rebecca have their own firearms with them. That is because they are both qualified to carry them, and understand the responsibilities associated with being under arms. Once you have each come to understand what that means, you may elect to be issued your own personal weapon. Or, you may elect not to. You have been inducted into Her Majesty's Royal Army, but yours is a unique position. Now, watch as Harry takes the rifle and will demonstrates its proper use and care."

Ron watched in fascination as Harry showed how to properly carry the rifle, how to safe and unsafe it, and how to load it. Then he showed how to fire from a sitting position from one of the training benches.

"Right, each of you to your own bench. Mind your instructors and follow all directives they give you."

Ron sat down at a bench with one of the instructors and was soon demonstrating the proper technique. It was a frustratingly long time before he was allowed to fire the gun, but once the range was declared hot Ron happily blasted away. It wasn't like firing a wand at all, the recoil and noise were completely different, and unlike a wand a rifle didn't know what your intended target was and attempt to aim itself properly. He didn't think he did too badly though; the wand practice had certainly helped.

"Eh, not bad for a kid," Corporal Reddy commented, squinting at the paper target Ron had been aiming for. "Still, you need practice. Come on then, show me how to safe your gun."

"I am so ready for this holiday to be over," Hermione groaned at dinner time. "I'm fine with being a hero and all, but I think my body is just one big sore now, combined with my ears ringing all the time."

"It's not so bad," Ginny said, digging into her Yorkshire pudding. "At least you get to go back to Hogwarts. I'll be stuck with mum and dad doing Merlin only knows what. Probably boring school stuff and helping mum keep house again."

"I think you'll probably end up with more than that on your plate Ginny. Your parents both know how serious this all is now, and I think they'll probably take the offer of more physical training for you with Becky," Harry said.

At first Ron had thought Ginny would continue her hero-worship of Harry that she'd displayed back when it had been bedtime stories about the original Boy-Who-Lived, but apparently spending time around Harry's sister had disabused her of the notion that Harry was anything but a regular mortal. Becky had told stories that involved things like Harry falling into a pond because a goose was chasing him or the time he'd gotten sick during a cricket match and spewed all over his coach, which Ginny had told Ron in gory detail. He'd made a mental note to never let Ginny tell Harry about the incident with the gnome and his underwear when he was eight.

"Don't worry Gin-Gin, you'll be at school with us before you know it. I'll even try and save a few baddies for you."

Ginny stuck her tongue out at Ron, but she seemed mollified.

"What do you think school will be like when we get back?" Ron asked Harry the night before they left. The boys were all sleeping in a barracks room together, and had pulled their bunk beds in a circle. Somehow, Fred and George had smuggled in a bag of marshmallows, and started a magical fire to roast them over. Percy hadn't even made any noise about telling the adults, instead conjuring a cone of darkness to hide the light and give the illusion they were all sleeping.

Harry shrugged, holding the pole he'd attached his marshmallow over the flames. "Dunno. I expect we'll all have detentions and such. The Headmaster might even try to shut down the Defense Club. We'll find a way to meet even if he does of course. And we'll stick by our friends, no matter what."

"I expect he'll disband the quidditch teams for the rest of term and cancel the cup," Percy remarked. The other boys, save Neville, looked at him in shock and horror.

"He wouldn't!" gasped George

"That would be a crime against nature!" cried Fred.

Neville shrugged. "All the quidditch teams were responsible for a lot of the fighting. They tend to have some of the strongest students physically and the most popular. The fact that the Slytherin team was following Malfoy's lead makes me suspicious though."

"Flint's probably trying to get in good with Malfoy's dad," Percy said. "The Flint family doesn't have that many connections, so Flint getting a sponsorship from Lucius Malfoy to get into the Ministry when he graduates would be a good career move on his part."

"They had best not cancel quidditch though," Ron said darkly. "We'd have a real revolt on our hands then."

"That would be pretty stupid for us to do, Ron." Before Ron could argue with Percy, the older boy held up a finger. "Think about it this way. It took one spell from a teacher to incapacitate the entire train full of students. It was probably the headmaster, who is easily the most powerful wizard in Britain, but still. The teachers could overcome all the students if they really had to, mostly because they would work together and we would not. We're still too divided between houses. The 'puffs will be on our side, sure, but don't be shocked if the 'claws cozy up to the Slys after that fight. It's the traditional old alliances: Gryffindor respects hard work and loyalty, the 'Puffs courage and a willingness to fight for your friends. The Slytherins admire brains and cleverness, the Ravenclaws ambition and cunning."

"And that doesn't get into the whole blood purity debate," Neville agreed. "Sure, Rowena Ravenclaw eventually argued against Salazar Slytherin's wizard born only policy, but it was a near thing. Traditionally Ravenclaw has been much more sympathetic to Blood Purist causes than Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. You've got the odd person who bucks their houses trend, but it's hard to ignore what seven years of living with that way of thinking does to how people think. Look at me, it's not even been a year, but I'm much braver now than I was when term started. You lot are rubbing off on me."

"But Padma, Anthony, Terry, and Michael are our friends," Harry protested. "Not to mention Blaise and Daphne. They wouldn't let their houses turn them against us."

"Maybe, maybe not," Fred said.

"They're just ickle firsties," George agreed.

"If their houses really put the screws on them, there is only so much the professors can do."

"Yeah, they can't be everywhere."

"We know that best."

"Still, I think we'd best make an announcement when term resumes."

"Too right. The Weasley's consider all of Ickle Ronnikins little friends as honorary Weasleys."

"Not a bad idea," Percy said. "I might have a few ideas for pranks you could try on those who cross the line."

Fred and George both flopped to the floor, their tongues lolling out as if in a dead faint to roars of laughter from Harry, Ron and Neville.

"Oh come on!" Percy half shouted, throwing his half burned marshmallow at them. "It's not that surprising!"

"Little Prefect Percy pulling pranks?" George said.

"The world truly has gone mad," Fred lamented.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\

"Hermione, will you promise to watch out for Harry. For me?"

Hermione rolled to the edge of her bunk and peered up at Becky. The other girl's face was obscured in the darkness, but her tone of voice told Hermione that the older girl was worried.

"He's an ugly, smelly git some of the time," Becky said, her voice trembling slightly, "But he is the only brother I have. He needs someone sensible like you to watch out for him."

"I will," Hermione promised. "I'll try to keep him out of too much trouble. And watch his back if he really gets in the thick of it."

"Keep an eye on my brothers too, OK?" Ginny said, her bed squeaking slightly. "Like Becky said they're all morons, but I do love them."

"They do out number me just a tad," Hermione said dryly. "But I'll do my best."

"Don't worry, I'll be there next year to help you," Ginny said confidently. "I've been practicing the bat bogey hex with my mum's wand when she isn't looking. I think I'm pretty good at it."

Hermione couldn't help but think that Ginny would contribute more to the reckless side of the equation than the sensible one, but she didn't say anything to hurt the younger girl's feelings. "I'll see if I can wrangle Daphne and Hannah to be a bit more proactive in preventing any more testosterone related mania with the boys."

"You two are so lucky," Becky said, her bunk groaning as she slipped onto the floor between the other girls beds. "It's hard not to be jealous that I haven't any magic and can't go to this amazing school with you."

"But you're really good at martial arts," Hermione protested. "You even beat Harry. And you're a better shot than he is too."

"For now," Becky grumbled. "You just watch. In a few years he'll get his growth spurt and then I'll be smaller than him and I won't be able to touch him on the matt. Plus, he has magic. That's practically cheating."

"There are ways to disable boys," Ginny said primly. "Mum's showed me a few of them. You don't even need a wand for the best one. Just hit them right in the bollocks."

Becky chuckled dryly. "I think I'd prefer that my brother stay out of the alto section of the choir."

"There's still loads you can do back here, Becky," Hermione encouraged. "Don't give up. You said you wanted to be batman, right? He's practically the best hero and he hasn't any powers."

"Yes, but I'm still working on the 'infinite money' superpower that he has."

"I wish I had that superpower," Ginny muttered.

Becky coughed, sounding slightly embarrassed. "Well, you know, we aren't doing this for free. You'll get paid now."

"Really?" Ginny's voice was brimming with excitement. "How much?"

"I get fifty pounds a week," Becky said. "I expect you'd get much the same."

"That's about 10 galleons," Hermione clarified for the other girl.

Ginny sniffed audibly. "I know that. Becky's been teaching me loads. I've even read half the books she likes now."

That got a conversation started on everyone's favorite literature, which lasted long into the night, until exhaustion finally claimed the three girls.


	29. Chapter 28

_Chapter 28: We Stand Alone Together_

Once again, Platform 9 ¾ was a tense place. Instead of family clusters, the students and their parents were mostly sorted by houses now. This left several families in a bit of a predicament, especially the ones like the poor Patil family who had students in rival houses.

"Come on," Harry said, pulling away from his parents. The Weasleys, Neville, and Hermione followed after Harry, who walked straight up to the Patils. "Hey, Parvati, Padma. How were your hols? All healed up?"

"Mostly," Padma said, giving Harry a small smile. "I'm a bit worried though, what if they cancel the Defence Club? I'm not going to be very popular in Ravenclaw, not when I hexed our seeker for trying to jinx Parvati."

Parvati sniffed. "You can always move in with me, Hermione and Lavender. Our seeker certainly wouldn't try to hex you."

"But I love being in Ravenclaw. I love the riddles, being able to curl up with a book anywhere I like, I even like my friends in Ravenclaw, like Mandy or Sue or Lisa. I'm not going to abandon them."

"I'm sure Professor Flitwick won't let any funny business happen in his house," Percy assured Padma. "He's very observant."

"Harry, Padma!" Anthony and Michael came running over from the cluster of Ravenclaws, drawing murmurs as they joined the mostly Gryffindor group. "Hey, did you hear? Terry's going to quit the defense club."

Harry sighed. He knew that was a possibility, that when things got rough they'd lose a few people, but he hadn't really wanted to lose anyone. Not Terry, who was brilliant and very much into quidditch. He had Ron got into some fine old rows since Terry was a Puddlemere United fan and Ron favored the Cannons. However, his brother Simpson Boot was one of the Ravenclaw beaters, and Harry was pretty sure he'd been hexed by a Defense Club member.

"Well, that's Terry's choice. The Club isn't going to force anyone to be a part of it We'll still welcome everyone who wants to come. Even if they try to shut down the club, they can't keep us from being friends."

"Oi, Neville, did you get my letter?" Hannah Abbot came running over, followed by Susan and Ernie. Leanne watched from the group of Hufflepuffs, seeming to want to come over but reluctant to leave her older brother and sister, who were also in her house.

"No, sorry, we were traveling over the holidays," Neville said. "You all better now? Those boils looked really horrific."

"I'm fine. I had the memories of crushing that git Malfoy's bollocks to speed my recovery." Hannah gave the group a wicked grin, the faint scars of the magical boils giving her face a sinister bent.

"Let no one ever say to me again that Hufflepuffs can't be scary," Parvati said, smiling at Hannah. "I missed that part, but I think Draco's voice was a bit higher when he was whining to his dad."

"Draco's voice has gone up at least one octave. He'll probably never have kids now." The group turned to face Daphne as she approached from the portal, along with her parents and younger sister.

"Children," Mr. Greengrass said cooly. He turned to Percy. "Where are your parents, young man?"

"Right here." Arthur Weasley strode up, looking rather fierce. His spectacles flashed in the morning light, and the new muscle he'd put on in the last few weeks made him rather more imposing than usual. "You have something to say to me, Cedar?"

Cedar Greengrass glanced around, then raised his voice slightly so that it carried. "It would seem my family owes yours a debt, Mr. Weasley. When my eldest daughter was in danger, it was not the old allies of my family that came to her aide, but your sons. She was terribly injured by the children of those I once considered my peers and friends. It was your family that protected her and prevented even more serious harm. Should you ever require help or a favor, you have only to ask. I value the life of my daughter far more than anything I posses."

There were mutters all the clusters of students now, one voice from the Gryffindor group even saying rather loudly "Weasleys, consorting with snakes? Never thought I'd see the day they betrayed the Light."

"The Weasley family recognizes no debt, Cedar," Arthur called, glaring around the room. There were mutters of approval from the Gryffindor families, and Cedar seemed incensed and ready to go for his wand over the insult, but Arthur continued, "we would never put our friends in our debt when we know the Greengrass family would be equally willing to come to our aide in time of need. I was told your daughter acted to help defend my youngest son from a vicious attack herself. It was an act of comrades, not of charity."

Cedar studied Arthur, then smirked and nodded. Instead of incurring a debt, Arthur Weasley had just made a rather blatant power play. He'd practically declared that the Greengrass family was in alliance with the Weasley's when it came to fighting enemies of the family, and considering what Cedar had just said he'd be hard pressed to refuse it. "It is good to know my family has such courageous allies at call upon when trouble comes. With our cunning and ambition and your bravery, we shall fell all who are foolish enough to come against us." Cedar stuck out his hand, and Arthur Weasley shook it. There were more than mutters now, especially from the Slytherin crowd, who beamed murder at both the Greengrasses and the Weasleys.

"I hope you will not-a hesitate to-a call upon my owna famigila, Signore Weasley." From the shadows stepped Griselda Zabini, two hulking men at her side that rather reminded Harry of Crabbe and Goyle. Unlike those two however, these men looked like they had plenty of practical experience breaking things, mostly people, and the scars on their hands and faces backed it up. At Mrs. Zabini's side came Blaise in crisp robes, his eyes focused on Harry's group. "My family anda I, we know howa to repay oura debts. Anda we know whoa our friends are." Her two companions glanced at the Slytherins, especially Malfoy and his family, and cracked their knuckles menacingly.

Then Griselda turned to Harry, and gave him a warm smile. "Ah, young Signore McAllister. My Blaise, he hasa told me abouta you. A very promising young man, no? If youra famigila was not ona the other side ofa the fence, so to speak, we coulda have a very profitable relationship, eh? Still, ifa you ever need something found ora someone to disappear, you just tella my Blaise and we make-a it happen, yes?"

Harry bowed to Griselda. "Of course, Donna Zabini. I will make sure you are the first person I contact for all my magical extra-legal ventures."

"Molto bene!" Giselda stepped forward and kissed the top of Harry's head. Then she stood and glared around the train station. "Anyone elsa have a problem witha me or-a my son, they have-a a problem with my whole famigila. The Zabini's, we are a big famigila. You gonna have a lota problems ifa you mess with us."

"Bloody hell Harry," Ron whispered when Giselda and her goons strode off. "Did you just make an alliance with a crime lord?"

"I think I did," Harry mused. "I wonder if she's ever seen the Godfather."

"She prefers Scarface," Blaise said seriously. "She likes lots of action."

"There are just so many jokes to go with that," Fred said.

"-we can't even pick one."

"Oh don't worry. My stepfather had a heart attack over the Holidays. You're not the only ones who are going to be making jokes about my mother getting a lot of action. I'm pretty used to it by now."

"Blaise-buns," George said, ruffling the younger boys hair.

"-we are going to have so much fun together."

Blaise made a face. "Just don't call me that. If you must give me a nickname, make it properly sinister."

In the end, Leanna and Terry were the only casualties from the fall out, electing to stay away from the defense club compartments. The non-Weasley/McAllister portion of the Gryffindor quidditch team stayed away as well, except for Angelina who briefly popped in to say hello to Fred before leaving to sit with the other chasers. The compartments were rather subdued during the journey. Everyone sat with their wands out, and they took turns as sentry to keep an eye out for trouble. They were not the only compartment doing the same either; save for their compartments, the rest of the train was firmly divided between the houses, with little traffic between them. Professors strode up and down the hallways, there stern faces preventing any acting out. Even the card games were rather subdued compared to usual. No one felt like slamming anyone's hands during Egyptian Rat Screw, or calling someone else a liar. Fred and George tried to get a poker game going, but no one really felt like gambling either.

"Do you really think they'll disband the club?" Anthony asked nervously, his eyes wandering off of his cards to Harry. He was far from the first person to ask the question, and Harry still didn't have a really good answer.

"No matter what happens, we will still be friends. They can't stop that, can they?"

As they boarded the carriages to ride back to the castle at the train station, Ron shuddered. "Why do they have to use such awful horses to pull these?"

"They are ugly," Neville agreed. "They look half rotten to me."

"What are you on about?" Harry said, staring at the empty space in front of their carriage. "There's nothing there."

Ron gave Harry a concerned look. "You blind mate? They're right there, and there's loads of them." He pointed right at the empty space in front of the carriage, then at all the other carriages.

"I don't see anything," Hannah said, looking around. "What about you Hermione, Daphne?" The other girls shook their heads.

"Weird." Harry shrugged. "It's probably something magical or some rubbish like that. Maybe it's because you two are the ugliest."

"Oi!"

That livened things up a bit during the ride to the castle, though Ron and Neville kept glancing at the front of the cart and shivering slightly.

"Hang on, let's gather everyone up," Harry said before they headed inside.

"Why, we're just going to split up when we get to the tables," Ron said.

Harry shook his head. "Not this time."

The Great Hall was nearly full, though there were a few notable absences that had a few people talking. The Gryffindor table was missing one of its usual sea of redheads, along with McAllister and his friends. Considering they were at the center of the whole mess that the school found itself in, people were talking. Just as the Headmaster stood to call everyone to attention, four more students walked through the doors of the great hall.

Harry McAlister, Hannah Abbott, Anthony Goldstein, and Blaise Zabini stepped into the room side by side. Behind them followed the rest of the Defense Club, Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Slytherin. There were plenty of glares and mutters from the tables, but the Headmaster stood as the murmurs got louder, and everyone calmed down.

Instead of splitting up or all sitting at one table, the group walked to the front, before the head table, and sat quietly on the floor, their backs to the other students. There were confused mutters from the house tables as students wondered what the professors would do. Harry met Dumbledore's eyes briefly, daring the old man to try and read his mind. Dumbledore merely met Harry's gaze for a moment, his expression thoughtful. Then he nodded at Harry, and looked up at the house tables. He raised his hands for silence, and after a few more whispers, he got it.

"Normally, I would would welcome you all to the start of our final quarter of the 1001st school year here at Hogwarts. However, as I am sure you are all thoroughly aware, the events that transpired at the end of last term were no cause for celebration. Indeed, such a violent outburst amidst the students has not happened since the terrible Battle of Hogsmeade in the winter of 1881. Fortunately, no students were slain, though not for lack of trying, it would seem. As such, there must be consequences."

Dumbledore sighed and removed his spectacles, looking very old for a moment before putting them back on. "First, the heads of houses have reported the results of their findings to me. It is clear that the incident was sparked when members of Slytherin house attempted to punish a junior member of their house for what they perceived as disloyalty to the Green and Silver. The primary instigator was one Marcus Flint. Mr. Flint confessed to planning and executing a plot to cause serious harm to two fellow students-"

"More like he took the fall for Draco," Ron muttered, to which Harry and Blaise nodded their agreement.

"-and as the ringleader, he has been expelled."

There were cries of outrage from the Slytherin table, especially from the Slytherin quidditch team. Amidst his own house, Flint had been very popular and well liked as he was a talented athlete and could be very charming when he so chose.

Dumbledore waited for the cries to die down, his cold gaze roaming over the hall until the students lapses into restless quiet. "Secondly, it is clear that while Marcus Flint was the primary instigator and perpetrated some of the most heinous acts of violence, he did not act alone. Nor can the blame be put wholly upon the shoulders of Slytherin house. The following students are hereby stripped of prefect status and given detentions every Tuesday until the end of term: Farley, Gemma. Clearwater, Penelope. Weasley, Percy. Truman, Gabriel."

Silence greeted that news. That was one prefect from every house, and the prefects who were supposed to be on patrol when the fight had started. The four students made their way up to the front, turning in their badges to their grim heads of house. Percy paused by Ron, giving him a tight lipped smile. "It was worth it." Then the eldest Weasley headed back to the Gryffindor table, where Fred and George clapped him on the back without a word, their own expressions solemn. They did know how much that badge had meant to Percy, and that he'd given it up to help his family.

"Finally, the worst of the fighting centered around four groups, who took this opportunity to work out grudges that should have been left on the pitch."

"No," Harry whispered, his face going pale.

"The Quidditch cup is hereby canceled. All points the quidditch teams earned in their performances are hereby revoked. Quidditch games and practices are canceled. Renewal of the cup next term will be contingent upon student behavior in the remainder of this one."

Stunned silence met this pronouncement, then frantic whispers broke out. Punishing a few key troublemakers was understood. Prefects being forced to turn in their badges had a precedent. But quidditch being wholly cancelled?

"They haven't done that since the last Tri-Wizard tournament," Ron whispered, his eyes filling with tears of frustration. "They can't. It's...it's quidditch."

"There are more important things in life, Ron," Harry told him quietly.

Glancing over at Hermione and thinking of her bloody face, Ron reluctantly nodded. "Yeah. I guess it was worth it."

"As a final reminder, there will be no start of term feast. I will not send you all to beds without supper, but there shall be no pudding for a weak, and our meals will be somewhat plainer to allow us to further contemplate the consequences of our actions." Dumbledore raised his wand and performed a complex series of gestures. Harry felt his pockets where he'd put his leftovers from the trolly cart suddenly lighten. "And to make sure that there is no cheating this, I have vanished all sweets from the castle. Including my own. Hogsmeade trips for older students will resume in ten days. You may eat."

Plain bowls of stew with rolls of bread appeared, along with an assortment of fruits and vegetables. To drink, there was only water. It wasn't an unappetising meal, but it was bland and unvaried compared to the usual Hogwarts fair, hammering home just how seriously the staff was taking the situation.

To Harry's shock, he found himself sitting at a low circular table in the back along with the rest of the defense club. "What the-" he began, then looked up at the headmaster, who was still standing. Dumbledore nodded at Harry, and gave him a small smile. Then he turned back to his seat, where he began mechanically eating his own stew.

"Wow, very nice Harrykins," Fred said, plopping down into a seat across from him at the table. Percy and George sat down as well, along with Penelope, who made her way over from the Hufflepuff table to sit next to Percy.

"I guess we dig in?" Ron said, looking around in confusion.

Hermione studied the head table, pursing her lips in thought. "I wonder what the Headmaster is doing. He's clearly giving us his stamp of approval. We were all involved in the fighting, and I must say some of us rather over did it. So why were we not punished?"

"I don't know," Harry said, dipping a roll in his stew. "But I'll take it as a good sign. We're still all in this together."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Albus, you said you were going to disband McAlister's little club," Professor Sinestra said, glancing at the back table where students from all houses were quietly eating. She was far from the only one looking either. Students and professors were studying the back table and murmuring to each other, trying to figure out what it meant.

The Headmaster nodded, his own eyes on his food. "I was, Aurora. But recent events have made me change my mind."

"It's because out of the whole bloody lot of them, McAlister and his little pals are the only ones showing any signs of interhouse friendship," Moody growled. "It would be sheer idiocy to disband the club after they walked in together like that."

Tonks nodded, firmly dipping her own roll into her stew and splashing the table. "Good. Now I won't have to go behind my bosses' back to keep the club going."

Several heads snapped around to look at the blushing youngest member of the staff. "You were going to go behind my back, Nymphadora?" Dumbledore said, his voice neutral.

"Too bloody right I was. Those sprogs are the only ones who've managed to do anything positive out of this whole mess, and before it even happened they were all such good friends. Punishing them for standing up for their mates? That would be the biggest load of troll dung I've ever heard of."

"So, you would rather do what is right than follow orders?" Moody growled, his eyes dangerously locked on Tonks."

"Damn right. And you can find someone else to teach if you have a problem with that."

"Young lady, I think I may have to find you a permanent position," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling merrily. "Perhaps it would be best of old Binns finally retired for good."

"Not on your life Albus. She's mine, at least until her training is through," Moody growled.

Tonks looked up nervously at the two old men. "You're serious? You're not just going to kick me out on my arse for mutiny or something?"

"If more aurors had been doing the right thing instead of just following orders, a lot of grief could have been spared after the last war," Moody snarled. "Black wouldn't have been in prison. Some bastards would be in Azkaban that walked. Some families wouldn't be dead now. I might still have my leg."

"Miss Tonks, if I ever give you an order that you know is morally wrong, I believe that you would be obliged to ignore it. I am not infallible. Even the Great Albus Dumbledore makes mistakes. Some of them quite serious."

"I'll keep that in mind, sirs." Tonk's was much more contemplative as she finished her meal, glancing up at the Defense Club frequently, and hoping she really was doing the right thing.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\\\/

"McAlister you dirty traitorous git!" Oliver had to be bodily restrained by Katie, Angelina, and Alicia, and even with the three chasers pulling on him the former captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team was still trying to hurl himself onto Harry. "This was my year! One cup! One bloody cup! We were up 2-0 at 430 points, ahead of everyone! We needed one more game! And you had to go and ruin it!"

"Harry knows that we're more important than some stupid cup!" Lavender yelled, putting herself between Harry and the fifth year boy.

Oliver paused, his face twisting in confusion as Lavender stuck a finger under his nose and wagged it, her other hand on her hip. "Did you not notice that Hermione nearly got her face caved in? Or that I was being dragged by the hair by that nasty Slytherin prefect who got her badge taken away? Did you care that Parvati and Padma were puking slugs for days? Is some stupid trophy really more important than all of us?"

"I...but...the cup...it's all I ever wanted…"

"Shh, Ollie, it's OK." Alicia said gently. "Let go of him girls. I'll take him for a walk in the corridors and calm him down."

"But it's after curfew," Oliver said, looking slightly dazed as his former team mates let him go.

Alicia nodded, taking Oliver's arm and leading him out of the portrait hole. "Yes, and we're both terribly distraught by the news that quidditch has been canceled. Why don't you show me how the owlery looks at this time of night? Perhaps we can find something there to ease our minds."

"Snog his brains out, Alicia," Katie whispered as the portrait clicked shut. She turned back around to Harry and his friends and gave them a sad smile. "Sorry, Harry. Oliver, well, you know. Quidditch is his life. He's going to be sore at you for a while, Harry. A lot of people are."

"It isn't fair!" Lavender said, glaring around the common room at those who had stopped to watch the row. "Harry was just trying to help his friends. Even if some of those friends are in Slytherin. I quite like Daphne. She's been very kind ever since she stopped hanging around awful Pansy and Millicent."

"Traitor," someone grumbled.

Angelina turned and punched the offending seventh year straight in the gut. "You do that again Reginald Bolding and I'll bloody well beat you senseless. Just because I'm a girl and younger than you don't think I can't."

"Especially not if I hold you down while she does it," Katie said, standing next to her friend. "That goes for all of you. Paws off Harry, and paws off the defense club."

"Or you'll get a special Weasley surprise," Fred and George chorused, cracking their knuckles. "Percy isn't a prefect anymore. We're off the leash."

"Everyone settle down," Harry barked, his voice brimming with fury. Katie and Angelina backed off, and Fred and George took up positions behind Harry. "Look, I didn't mean to get quidditch banned. In case you have forgotten, I was on the team too, and it my favorite part of being at Hogwarts. I love to fly, and I was looking forward to having that cup almost as much as Oliver. But my friends were in danger. I had to save them. I don't recall any of you lot saying we shouldn't try to beat the snot out of the Slytherin quidditch team, and more than a few of you started hexing any Slytherin you could find and the Ravenclaws and even some 'puffs."

"If you'll feel better about yourself blaming me, fine. Do it. But I think we should all blame the real problem: all these stupid divides between us. Until we thought that having some Slytherins be in our club would make us seem more important, I hated Slytherins as much as any of you, if not more. But Blaise and Daphne are good sorts, even if they have some bad quirks. So do we all. But they're really nice to have on your side, because they're always trying to make it better, to be stronger, to strive for more. The wizarding world has so many divides. House against house. Pureblood against muggleborn. Wizard against muggle. We need to start acting like we're all in this together, instead of fighting everyone who doesn't fit in our own little clique. Now I'm going to bed, where I'll spend less time mourning the loss of quidditch than I will mourning Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, who died because their blood wasn't pure enough and because they were in the wrong house. Good night."

Harry stomped up the stairs to the dorm, followed by Ron and Neville.

"Good speech Harry," Neville said, closing the door behind him.

Ron nodded. "Yeah, that was pretty brilliant. You'll have everyone begging to join the club in no time."

Harry flopped on his bed. "I wasn't trying to make a speech. I was just so angry with everyone. Can't they see? This is how Darth Stupidus nearly took over last time. Everyone was so busy squabbling they never joined together to stop him."

"You think he'll be back soon?" Neville asked, sitting down on his own bed.

"I dunno. Maybe. But he's out there somewhere, and if he came back now, he'd pick us all off, house by house."

"Not all of us," Ron vowed. "You've got friends Harry. Friends in every house. We might not be an army yet, but give us a few years."

"I just hope we do have a few years."

 _Authors Note:_

 _Griselda's accent is possibly the worst thing I have ever written. But I'm not apologizing, because I love it._

 _Also, yes, again, I screwed up Penelope's house. Whups. She um, she switched with Gabriel Truman, who is now in Ravenclaw._


	30. Chapter 29

_Chapter 29: What is victory?_

The rest of the term settled into a time of unease. The back table in the Great Hall vanished after that first feast, but the Defense Club continued to sit together at meals. The entire club also started showing up for morning runs and exercises with Sergeant Prewitt to Harry's great approval. He made a point of occasionally sitting at the Slytherin table with the rest of his friends, and despite various glares and sneers, none dared to challenge Harry under the watchful eyes of the professors. In the end the defense club rotated between all the tables at meals, making sure not to overly favor one over the other, despite the fact that Gryffindor, mostly thanks to the Weasley clan, made up most of their members.

"Amazing how even in the direst of circumstances you manage to skip out smelling like a rose," Snape sneered at their next detention. "Still, it is fortunate for us all that the Headmaster has chalked your behavior up to you and Longbottom wanting to live up to your heroic titles."

"They attacked me first, you know," Neville said, his face sweaty from trying to resist the potions master's mental probes. "Just thought I should mention that."

"I just wanted to help my friends," Harry said, his own face pale from the same efforts.

Hermione shrugged, waiting her own turn. "I think you're going to blame us no matter what we say."

"I kicked arse," Ron added. "Just thought you should all know that."

"And yet," Snape said, his eyes snapping over to Ron's. The redhead's face flushed with strain as he tried to fight off Snape's probe. The contest continued for almost ten seconds, before Ron slumped to the side, defeated. "...you cannot prevent even the simplest of legilimens probes."

"Urh," Ron muttered, shaking his head. "I lasted longer that time though."

"If your progress was measured in inches, I am sure you would give glaciers a fine race." Snape regarded the four students, then leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. "In truth I am concerned, and not just for you. The entire school is dividing itself into camps, further increasing tensions and bringing up old feuds. This is exactly the sort of environment the Dark Lord exploited twenty years ago when he first rose to power. If you want to have even the faintest hope of your plans succeeding, you must master occlumency or risk exposing your plans as soon as the headmaster or the Dark Lord decides to take matters into their own hands."

"We'll keep working at it," Harry said. He glanced at the others. "Professor, we wanted to ask you something about-"

"No, I will not teach occlumency to your entire cadre of minions," Snape said. "I have, however, begun to tutor Blaise and Daphne quietly in the art. Unsurprisingly, they show more aptitude for keeping their thoughts hidden than any of you four morons."

Harry wasn't certain if he should be insulted or pleased, and settled on being happy for his friends. "That's great, do you think that-"

"No. And not for a very long time. Blaise and Daphne are not as dyed in the wool about blood supremacy as some in my house, but they are relentlessly biased against muggles in general. Do not be so arrogant, McAllister. You have already made great strides in your plan. Do not overextend your reach."

"I think Hannah and Anthony would be open to the idea of integration with muggles," Neville opined.

Snape growled and shook his head. "Not yet! In future, yes, perhaps you can recruit them. Just continue to be your normal, irritating selves. You managed to convince me your chance had a side. Lead them to become ever more bound to you by bonds of loyalty, friendship, and Salazar save me, love. It damn well worked for your birth mother McAllister, and you can make those same tactics work for you."

"I'm not trying to be their friend just so they'll obey me," Harry protested. "I like them. I want them to see the truth yeah, but if they disagreed we could still be friends."

Snape shook his head at the display of naivete. "McAllister, over lesser politics than this have wars been fought and friendships spoiled for eternity. Do not be a simpleton: this is a matter of life and death. Their choices are the muggles, the headmaster, the dark lord, or death in the crossfire. Decide now which side will result in their survival, and lead them down that path."

After their detention, the four Gryffindors made their way quietly through the corridors. "Do you really think that we're manipulating everyone?" Harry asked, keeping his eyes on his feet.

Hermione hesitated, then put her arm around Harry's shoulders. "In a way, yes. Just like when you want to teach someone or persuade them to your point of view, you have to present facts and ideas that will lead them over to your way of thinking. But we're not being evil about it or anything."

"We're being a tad evil," Neville said. "Or at least, we're subverting the law of magical Britain. We might believe our cause or the laws of the Queen or whatever trump them, but we are breaking the Statue of Secrecy and trying to make others think that would be a good thing."

"Yeah, well, if Darth Stupidus was the Minister he'd make laws about how we'd all have to round up muggleborns and kill them or something stupid like that." Ron looked around at the shocked expressions on his friends faces. "What? That's the sort of thing he'd do, isn't it? And he'd make it legal. That's what your Hitler chap did with certain kinds of muggles, didn't he? And it was the law in Germany or whatever for years."

"Where did you learn that?" Hermione asked.

Ron shrugged. "I asked Harry's sister if she had a copy of Maus to lend me. She did. So I read it. I like the pictures, even if they don't move. Bit dark though."

"Why were you asking about Maus?" Hermione demanded.

"Because she said it was your favorite comic book. Obviously."

"And why were you asking Becky about my favorite comic books, Ronald Weasley?"

Ron tensed slightly at the use of his full name. "Because, um, you're really brilliant and you said that muggle history was important so I thought maybe I should learn some of it and also Becky's always going on about comic books and stuff and she's really brilliant so I finally caved and read some of her stuff because Ginny said I should and um, well, and I thought maybe you'd be impressed."

Hermione studied Ron for a moment, then let go of Harry and practically tackled Ron in a hug. "Just when you think boys are completely thick, you go and do something sweet like that." She practically skipped off down the hall away from Ron, leaving him and his two friends to watch her retreating for in confusion.

"What was that about?" Ron wondered aloud.

Harry shrugged. "Don't ask me. I love Becky dearly, but she's mental. Drives me crazy half the time."

"Girls are weird," Neville agreed.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

June came to the school, and with the heat came exams. History of Magic was so utterly boring that Harry just wrote down everything that Hermione had on the study guide she'd made with the Ravenclaws in the Defense Club on his test.

"He never changes the exams," Padma had explained. "So the Ravenclaws keep a copy of them on display for students to study. There's more interesting things to do with our time then listen to lectures on endless goblin rebellions."

"That's cheating!" Hermione had protested.

Anthony had grinned and winked at her. "No, it's being smart. Come on, we'll let you help us draw up this year's 'study guide' and we'll all get O's on our exams."

Potions was also pathetically easy. After spending every Saturday evening with Snape for a whole semester cleaning up various potion messes and studying while waiting for your turn to have your mind ripped apart, the basic first year stuff was a breeze. Snape even managed a "not utterly hopeless after all. One point to Gryffindor," when Harry and Ron and turned in their Wiggenweld potion, giving them an "E." Neville and Hermione had just gotten a grunt and, "Two points." Theirs had been the mossy green of lichen, and smelled of fresh cut ash wood; a textbook example. They got an "O" for their work, to Snape's chagrin.

Charms was fairly easy after the great deal of practice Harry and the rest of the Club had accumulated throughout the term. Transfiguration was much harder, but Harry figured his snuff box was only a little fuzzy, and McGonagall had given him an "A" which was good enough for him. Herbology was a breeze when Neville and Hannah had been tutoring you for ages, and Harry got an O easily. Astronomy was equally easy thanks to the twins having pumped Harry for every bit of information on space he could find on a regular basis, though Harry was so tired during the midnight exam he got a few questions wrong and got an "E" instead of the "O" he had wanted.

Finally was the exam everyone in the defense club had been looking forward to: Defense. And it was a practicum.

"Alright sprogs, this is it, time to show me your stuff!" Professor Tonks had turned her hair a lovely shade of purple for the exam, and was once again sporting her magical sunglasses. She indicated a black top hat with her wand. "Write your names on parchment and stick them in the hat. I'll magic out two names, and the two selected will take turns casting hexes or jinxes and their counters at their opponent. Only ones from the curriculum that we've learned, mind. This isn't a duel, so don't go trying to hex someone's head off." She glared at Neville and then Theodore, who had recently attempted to kill one another during a demonstration. "No repeating a hex or jinx your opponent has used, and you have 30 seconds to come up with the counter. If you break any of the rules, you're disqualified. You get a grade based upon your performance, so you can both earn Os if you do well enough."

Everyone quickly put their names down on the parchment and hurried up to the hat. Pansy elbowed Parvati and Daphne out of the way, glaring at her as she did so. "I'll take any of you bitches down."

"What was that?" Tonks said, standing and coming towards Pansy.

She smiled sweetly at the professor. "I said witches, professor. What did you hear?"

Tonks narrowed her eyes, then looked at Parvati and Daphne. "I'm tempted to let one of you make her eat those words."

Daphne stepped forward. "It would be my pleasure, ma'am."

"Not if I get to her first," Parvati vowed.

"Only in the classroom sprogs," Tonks warned. "Even I can't ignore brawling in the corridors. And we've had such a good end of term too. Don't' want to end up expelled like Flint, right."

"No," Parvati and Daphne agreed.

Lavender put her arms around her two friends. "Don't worry, if I get her, I'll turn her into a newt." When Tonks raised an eyebrow at that, Lavender hastily added, "She'll get better."

As luck would have it, it was indeed Pansy's name out of the hat first. "And Pansy will be facing...Greengrass. Well well, we'll get the match we wanted after all."

The two Slytherin's faced off, bowing to each other. Daphne then lowered her wand and braced herself: Pansy got to go first.

" _Furnunculus!_ " Pansy cried, and boils instantly sprouted all over Daphne.

"Clearisilium!" the boils vanished, and Daphne pointed her own wand at Daphne. " _Fons naso!"_

Bile erupted from Pansy's nose, but she managed to get out, " _Claritindius."_

It went back and forth for a dozen spells. Once the more dangerous or painful spells on the curriculum were exhausted, the two girls just traded back and forth minor stings, tickling charms, and other fairly harmless tricks for four minutes.

" _Crescit unguibus_!" Pansy panted, pointing her wand at Daphne.

Daphne's eyes widened as her shoes started to bulge, her mouth hanging open.

"Come on Daph!" Hermione cried. "You can remember it!"

"Um, um, _recusantem unguibus_!" The shoes stopped bulging and Daphne sighed in relief and raised her wand, but Pansy tutted and grinned.

"You lose!"

"Finite incantatem!" Tonks called, waving her wand and using the more advanced general counter curse. "Sorry Daphne, you just hexed yourself. You wanted _consistere unguibus_ , which is the counter to both _recusantem_ and _crescit unguibus_. Good try though, "O"s for both of you. Next up is Blaise and Neville."

Neville one that match up with a jelly legs jinx that a loudly swearing Blaise spaced the counter on after a seven minute battle. "I used this on you last week, I should bloody well remember!" Blaise protested as Neville stepped forward to perform the counter.

He glanced at Tonk's who shook her head. "It's been 30 seconds, you're out Blaise, but you get an 'O.' Go ahead Neville."

Crabb and Goyle ended up facing each other, both surprising themselves and everyone else by lasting a full two minutes, and only failing because Crabb used a curse definitely not on the first year curriculum."

"Crabbe, the bat bogey hex isn't one I've taught you and it isn't in your textbook. Disqualified. You both get E's though."

"But Granger used it on me on the train," Crabbe protested.

"Good for you, or rather, bad for you, but that doesn't change that it isn't on the list for today."

Lavender faced Theodore and won one for the club, Parvati faced Hermione and put up a heroic defense, but lost to the curly haired witch after a rousing nine minute brawl. Ron absolutely trounced Millicent in one minute, and offered to go another round to earn an O, which Tonks gave him anyway giving Milicent an "A."

"Well, it looks like it's just you and me, McAllister," Draco sneered, standing even before their names were taken out of the hat.

Harry popped his knuckles and bared his teeth in a rictus of a smile. "I've been waiting for this since the first day of term, Malfoy. What happened last time was just a warm up."

"Now remember, this isn't a duel you two," Tonks warned. "Simple hexes and jinxes with their counters that have been in the curriculum only. No repeats, 30 seconds for the counter. And if I even detect a whiff of foul play, I'll turn both of you into frogs and leave you for your head of house. McAllister, you're up first."

Harry pointed his wand at Draco and cried, " _Evomat Earum_!"

Draco immediately raised his wand and said, "Cochlea…" and then vomited slugs. Harry smirked at him as the defense club members laughed and cheered, dispite glares from Tonks.

" _Cochlea abierrun_ t!" Draco managed, with a final slug coming out of his mouth. He snarled, wiping the slime from his chin. " _Apium!_ "

Harry flinked as the painful sting struck his cheek. He touched his wand to the sting. " _Benidrillius_. _Scourgify_!"

Draco flinched as his the skin on his left arm turned red and bloody as if it had been gone over with a wire bristle brush. "Foul!" he cried. "There's no counter to that one!"

Tonks frowned at Harry. He smiled and shrugged. "That was one we learned from Professor Quirrell. The headmaster insisted after we proved it's effectiveness against a troll. I figure Malfoy qualified."

"Alright, fine, I'll allow that one, I guess I never did specify that the hex or jinx had to have a counter. But that's a charm, and none of that or you'll be disqualified with a T, McAlister."

"Can I use a charm on him back, Professor?" Malfoy asked, his eyes gleaming. "It would only be fair."

"Which one, exactly?"

"Basic freezing charm, we learned it in our class."

Tonks sighed. "Alright, you brought this on yourself Harry. Go ahead, Draco."

" _Pruina_!" A thin coating of ice covered Harry's face, fogging up his glasses. He took them off and rubbed them on his robes, shivering slightly and rubbing at his face to warm it up. He'd have a mild case of frostbite, but he wasn't through yet.

After that, the two stuck to basic hexes and jinxes with their counters. The battle raged on for 11 minutes, with the entire curriculum of spells being nearly exhausted and both boys having to reach deeper into their minds to come up with spells and counters. Harry was starting to tire out. Individually each spell wasn't very draining, but the effects of the various hexes and jinxes combined with the magical power expended were taking their toll. It wasn't like a normal fight where Harry could use a spell to disable his opponent, then use his superior martial arts or athleticism to gain an advantage. He had to stand there and take it, and he was wearing out.

Draco wasn't looking so well himself. The skinner boy was taking a beating from Harry's various spells as well, but he wasn't slowing down as fast as Harry was. His wandwork was superior and he knew it, and Harry wasn't to sure how much longer he could last.

" _Articulos pilosus_!" Harry croaked. Hair sprouted from Draco's knuckles, and the blonde sneered.

"Pathetic, McAllister. _Rogainus_! Now try a real spell. _Labia plumbum_!"

Harry felt his mouth fill with a metallic taste and his tongue grow heavy. He desperately tried to think of what the jinx was, and what the counter was. Was it the fumble tongue? No, he'd used that one earlier. Cotton mouth? No, that wasn't it... lead tongue! But the counter... . the counter was…." _Loqui libre_!"

Harry then started to say the alphabet. Backwards. But he couldn't, because his tongue was too heavy.

"Oh, bad luck Harry. _Finite incantatem_! You wanted _Loqui libre_ , not _Libre loqui_. One stops all sorts of mouth and tongue related spells, the other is a babbling jinx. However, that was an incredible display on both your parts. Not just Os, but extra credit for both of you. Great work sprogs!"

Draco sneered and turned to strut back to the four loyal Slytherins, who all jeered and cat called Harry. He slumped and made to go back to his seat, when he was suddenly mobbed by all his friends.

"Harry that was amazing" Neville cheered. "I didn't think there were more than a dozen more spells that were legal!"

"You showed Draco," Ron said, laughing. "That scouring charm was hilarious."

"You did us proud, Harry," Daphne said, giving Harry a quick hug.

Hermione gave Harry a longer hug, whispering in his ear, "You would have won a real fight."

Blaise slapped Harry on the back, not saying anything, but giving Harry a wink.

Lavender and Parvati shouted "Harry for Minister!" and blew red sparks in the air with their wands.

"Oi, get out of here you lot!" Tonks laughed. "Exams over. Go play in the sunshine or something."

Harry glanced back at Draco and his gang as he left. Draco was standing in front of Crabbe and Goyle, who were trying to look menacing, but at the same time looking slightly nervous that Fred and George might pop out of nowhere and turn their underwear inside out. They'd done that twice already, so Harry was pretty sure they'd pick something new. Theodore Nott looked bored and uninterested. Pansy was fawning over Draco, so Millicent was as well, but Draco was ignoring both. Draco tried to sneer at Harry, but he looked slightly perplexed. At the same time, both boys wondered: Who had really won?

Taking Tonk's advice, Harry and his friends stopped by their common rooms to change, then headed out to the lake to splash about in the water. Several other students were already there, including Penelope and the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw members of the Defense Club. Despite losing her Prefect status, Penny had decided to continue to act as if she were one, protecting the first year 'Puffs and 'Claws from any vengeance from their housemates or other rivals. Together, the friends splashed about in the water for several hours, laughing and playing. They were joined by the rest of the Weasley brothers as well, and when they were finished Fred and George produced several picnic baskets.

"Compliments of the Hogwarts House elves," Fred and George said proudly, displaying the pitchers of lemonade and baskets of chips and sandwiches."

"What's a house elf?" Harry and Hermione said at the same time.

Fred and George blinked. "You know, the servants who make the meals."

"Clean our rooms and such."

"Keep most everything in proper order."

"Hogwarts has the largest population of house elves in Britain," Percy explained.

Neville nodded. "Yeah, house elves are great. Nipsy is a great help to Gran and me at home. Her mum was Gran's wedding gift, so when she died Nipsy became the official Longbottom elf."

"Wait, are they servants, or slaves?" Hermione demanded.

"They're slaves," Penelope said, glaring at Neville. "I always thought it was a bit wrong to exploit them like that. I hope you're at least decent to yours."

"Oh, yes," Neville said, nodding quickly. "She's very well treated. Gran's offered her clothes every year as a birthday present, but she won't take them."

"They don't even have clothes!?" Hermione half shrieked.

"Oh bugger," Ron said, slapping his face with his open palm. "This is going to be like when you found out Hagrid had a dragon, and that they're semi sentient, isn't it?"

"They should not be treated like the aboriginals in Australia were! That was monstrous, and a crime against humanity!"

"He's happier in the preserve in Wales, Hermione!"

"It was a SHE and did you ever even think to ask Norberta that!"

"No, because they're a bloody dragon!"

"Hermione, maybe we should liberate the wizarding world from its prejudices against humans first, then worry about dragons and elves?" Neville said hopefully.

Hermione turned on Neville, her eyes blazing, but Lavender put a calming hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Hermione, why don't you ask the elves what they think first, then go on crusade? And what do you mean about liberating the wizarding world first, Neville?"

"Oh, um, that's why we've got the club you know," Ron said. "To uh, to make sure everyone knows that blood status doesn't matter?"

"Oh. Well I didn't realize it was political." Lavender tossed her hair over her shoulder. "You should have mentioned that earlier, Harry."

"It was implied?"

"Well it should be more obvious if you really want to move the cause forward," Michael Conner put in. "I'm all for it of course, but most people just think we like to get into fights or something."

"Yeah. Does this include rights for squibs?" Padma asked. She glaned at Parvati and bit her lip. Parvati nodded and continued, "after seeing how nice and how competent Mr. Prewitt is, we've decided that maybe squibs aren't so bad. We're thinking of trying to get our parents to get back into contact with cousin Kopula."

Harry glanced at Ron, who shrugged and nodded. "Um, yes. Definitely yes. You're all, uh, you're all taking that idea better than I thought you would."

"I'm Slytherin, Harry, not stupid," Blaise said, skipping a rock out over the water. "I know where my bread is buttered. So does my mum. I can let go of some biases if it means long term advancement for me."

"Same goes for me," Daphne agreed. "I figured out right about the time Flint tried to kill me that maybe it would be better if I was friends with people who liked me for being me, not because I could help them. I still have ambitions, but maybe not just to be pretty and popular."

Hannah winked at Harry. "I want to learn to kick more arse. Next time, it will be Crabb and Goyle on the floor bleeding, not me."

"Blood status has no logical basis anyway," Anthony agreed. "Magic doesn't make you a genius anyway, Crabbe and Goyle are living proof of that."

Susan took out her wand and pointed it at the lake. "This is much too serious for end of term discussions. Fonticulus!"

Soon, everyone was once again wet and laughing as they used their wands to launch watery missiles, not going up to bed until Hagrid appeared and started developing a horrid cough around 8pm.

Boarding the train back to his family should have felt like going home for Harry, but it really didn't. He missed his family to be sure, but he also was going to miss all of his friends.

"Feels weird, knowing I won't see you lot at lunch," Ron said as the usual Defense Club group sat down at the Hufflepuff table after their morning run.

"You hardly ever see us at lunch, Ron. You're too busy looking at the food," Padma said.

Ron stuck his tongue out at her, but laughed along with everyone else. Everyone lingered over breakfast, until Professor Tonks came by to shoo them off. She sniffed and tried to smile at them, but Harry could see tears in her eyes. "It's like bloody graduation all over again. I'll miss you lot, but I've got to get back to auror training."

"You'll come back, right Tonks?" Lavender asked. "When you've finished your training, you could be our professor again!"

Tonks laughed and wiped away a few tears. "I might just do that if the Big Boss will have me. Might have to fight Mad Eye for it, he's actually grown fond of you lot."

"You wouldn't know by how he acts," Percy muttered. He was still upset he'd only gotten an E in his DADA practicum since he'd failed to properly dispel a disillusionment charm quick enough.

Tonks grinned and slapped Percy's back. "Cheer up kiddo, he does like you lot, that's why he's so hard on you. If he didn't care, he wouldn't swear at you so. Or at least that's what he told me on the first day."

Then it was off to grab their trunks and onto the train. While the air on the train was festive, it was also rather subdued. Teachers patrolled the corridors, including the headmaster. Everyone was to stay in their own compartments except to use the toilet. Still, Harry enjoyed the ride back. He sat with Ron and his brothers along with Hermione and Daphne, playing exploding snap and gorging himself on sweets when the rather nervous trolley witch came by.

The train finally rolled to a stop, and it was time for final goodbyes. Harry knew he would see the Weasleys, Neville and Hermione again soon, but he wouldn't see his other friends for nearly two months. After some back slapping and loud jokes, they finally parted ways. This time, Harry actually ended up back at his home after nearly a year away.

"Everything's different, but not much has changed here," Harry commented as the family sat down for afternoon tea. "Feels strange."

"It's always hard, coming home after a battle," his father said. "But the important thing isn't the place, or the things. It's the people."

Harry nodded his agreement. "Yeah. I did miss all of you, and I'm glad to be home, but I'll miss school too. I wish...well, I wish you could come and visit me more often, or you could spend more time there. Hogwarts is important to me now, for a lot of reasons, and it's not really something I can share with you. Unless you have any more of those special pills?"

Dad grimaced. "No. Not for a while. Not unless it's an emergency. Maybe someday, son."

Mum looked pained, but Harry didn't notice the look that passed between her and dad, since Becky had taken that opportunity to tease Harry about how long and shaggy his hair had gotten. Under the table, Alice and Tom joined hands, and Alice gave Tom's a quick squeeze. They'd make it, somehow.

Upstairs, shredded in the bin, was a report from Doctor Patil. The consequences of the dozen pills Tom had popped in under three hours were in: his liver was in bad shape, and it looked like he'd developed gastrointestinal cancer. The radium and heavy metal cocktail had disrupted the magical energies as the scientists had hypothesized, but it had also given Tom a dose of radiation poisoning and metal toxicity.

Cheating magic didn't come cheaply.

 _Authors Note:_

 _For anyone who really cares, Huflfepuff won the house cup. Even Snape and Dumbledore's blatant favoritism pale in comparison to Tonks who was very upset that her house had never won the cup during her entire time as a student. As such, Hufflepuff racked up an impressive (and unprecedented) 9283 points in only a single semester despite the loss of all quidditch related points. Sadly, Dragon Ball Z had not yet been dubbed in English, so no one made the obvious joke for several years._


	31. Chapter 30

_Chapter 30: The End of the Beginning_

The Lupin cottage was hardly the same as it had been a year ago. Whereas once it had been fairly ramshackle and half falling apart, now it was rebuilt, clean, and newly painted. A large black dog lay on the couch, snoozing in the mid morning light.

"Get up, it's half past ten already," Remus Lupin called from the kitchen. "Breakfast got cold ages ago."

The black dog yawned and stretched, then looked up at the table and whined.

"No, you can't eat unless you change back. Bloody hell Sirius, what if someone were to see? It's technically illegal, you know."

"Oh what are they going to do, throw me back in Azkaban? Then I could at least sneak into Peter's cell and finish the job." In the place of the black dog now sat a rather healthier looking Sirius Black. His hair had regained it's glossy sleekness, as had the black dog's coat incidentally. His cheeks were no longer quite so sunken, and his eyes had regained a bit of their former mischievous sparkle.

"If they don't, I might. You're shedding everywhere. You can't live on my couch forever. Don't you have half a dozen manors or something?"

"One manor, a summer house in Tuscany, a hunting lodge in the midlands, the town house in London, and a cottage in the Scottish highlands. So it's only five."

"You're forgetting your estate in Australia."

"That's really my second cousins, not mine. I leased it to him for a dollar for the next hundred years."

"Oh, my mistake. You have five perfectly good houses to go shed in. Why not go there?"

"Because you'd be hopeless without me." Sirius strode into the kitchen, served himself cold beans, bacon and bread he didn't bother to toast, and sat down across from Lupin. "I'm thinking it's time for another visit with Harry. The summer hols are here, and I was hoping we could take him to the summer house for a vacation. What do you say, Moony?"

"Padfoot, you are forgetting the very small manner that Harry's parents might have something to say about a man they know nothing about kidnapping their son for a few weeks."

"They are not his parents!" Sirius snarled, and a bit of the old madness shone in his eyes for a moment. He pulled himself together and leaned back in his chair. "I mean, James and Lily will always be his real parents."

Lupin sighed and set down his paper. "That's not how he sees it, Sirius, and you have to respect that. We were out of Harry's life for a decade. He's got his own family, his own likes. Why, I heard from Minnie that he actually rather gets along with dear old Snape."

"That filthy fu-"

"See, this is why Harry only ever writes back a line or two when you send him letters. If you go around insulting people he likes, he'll never grow fond of you. You have to go slowly."

"Snivellus is still traitorous scum, Moony. And you know it."

Lupin regarded Sirius for a long moment. "We all made mistakes when we were younger, Sirius. Or had you forgotten? Snape has good reason to dislike us."

"And we far better to hate him! He was a Death Eater!"

"Was being the operative word. He turned his coat. He was invaluable during the last days of the war."

"He got James and Lily killed and nearly Harry too. That's unforgivable."

"You don't know that for a fact. And some might say that trying to lure a man to a werewolf's lair is unforgivable, Sirius."

Sirius growled and turned his full attention back to his late breakfast. Remus got up and made them both tea, setting a cup down in front of Black as he liked it: with plenty of cream and sugar so that it was hardly tea at all.

"Thanks," Sirius growled. "Do you really want me gone?"

Lupin sighed. "You'll be awfully lonely."

"Yeah, I would be. That's why I should stay."

"No, I mean, you'll be awfully lonely here."

Sirius paused and looked up to see Remus giving him a roguish grin. "What, you get a job overseas again or something?"

"Nope, you are looking at the newest Hogwarts Professor."

"No! You? A respectable professor. You'd have to be mad to hire a Marauder as a teacher."

"Well, good old Dumbles is as batty as ever, so I guess that counts. I leave in a month to get ready for the start of term."

"What are you teaching? Someone finally exorcise Binns?"

Lupin chuckled and shook his head. "Not exactly, Moody and Tonks are going back to auroring. I'm taking over DADA classes."

"Huh. Well, good for you. You were always an excellent tutor." Sirius scratched his chin, looking thoughtful. "I wonder what the school policy is on teacher's pets."

"They're only allowed if they're students," Lupin said. "But, if you're set on staying here, you could always keep up with the gardening for me."

Sirius sighed and shook his head. "No, no, I'll find somewhere to live. I need to make a presentable home for Harry, of course."

"You need to drop that."

"You know I won't."

"Well, have you at least checked your mail?"

"Don't think you can distract me. Harry needs a proper magical upbringing and I- when did I get a letter from the Headmaster?" Sirius gazed at the parchment envelope addressed to him in Dumbledore's spidery handwriting. He quickly opened it and read the letter aloud.

"Dear Mister Black,

The Board of Governors has given careful consideration to your application. I am pleased to say that upon my recommendation and that of our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Remus Lupin, the board has agreed to hire you. Please see the enclosed details for your agreed upon salary. Please sign and return the contract no later than June 20th. We look forward to seeing you for start of term preparations on August 18th.

Signed, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster."

Sirius blinked and set the parchment down. Lupin was shaking in silent laughter, shaking his head and grinning widely. "Got you."

"Damn. I guess you did," Sirius admitted, looking back down at the parchment. "Um, what job did I apply for, exactly? Mascot? House elf? Dish cleaner?"

"Read your contract and find out."

Sirius did, then looked up and leapt across the table as Padfoot, slobbering Remus with huge doggy kisses.

"Oof! Off of me, you smelly brute!"

Sirius changed back and jumped on the table, banging his head on the ceiling, then doing a quick jig anyway.

"Two Marauders at Hogwarts! And me, in charge of campus security! Old Snivellus won't know what hit him!"

"Let's at least try to be professional about it, Padfoot…."

The only answer Remus got was a loud howl. After a moment, Remus shrugged and joined in.

Hogwarts would never be the same again.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The room was a bright and airy one, with a large window open to the summer sky, which was clear and sunny with only a few wisps of clouds. There was a comfortable couch to sit on, along with several magazines and books. In a corner, there was a box full of toys which Ron eyed suspiciously. He wasn't some little kid that wanted to play dolls or something: he was twelve now.

"Ah, Ronald, Mrs. Weasley, welcome. I'm Dr. Sharon Thymer." A motherly looking woman with light brown hair and just a touch of makeup in a lab coat and brown sun dress greeted them.

"Hello," Ron said nervously, shaking the doctor's hand.

"Are you the muggle, er, sorry, are you the mind healer? Psy something?" mum said, slightly flustered still from the car ride.

"I'm a child psychiatrist, yes. Don't worry, I'm fully briefed in on your unique situation. Sadly, many children of Her Majesty's Armed Forces suffer trauma, due to losing a parent or other circumstances, and I have experience with cases like Rons. However, for our first session, I'm going to have to ask Ron if he want's you to stay, Mrs. Weasley."

Molly swelled slightly, ready to attack with wand blazing to defend her son. Dr. Thymer held up a calming hand. "Not because I don't' trust you or think you don't love your son, but because often times children won't say things in front of their parents that can help the healing process. Do you understand? It's up to Ron though, not you or me."

"I'd like to talk to her alone, mum, if that's alright," Ron said quietly. He hoped his mother wouldn't exploud, she could be very unreasonable about those things.

After a moment though, Molly deflated and knelt down to give Ron a hug. "Whatever you need, Ronald. If you want to talk to the mind healer alone...I'll understand."

"Do keep in mind that whatever Ronald tells me is completely confidential, Mrs. Weasley. I can't talk to you about it later. He can tell you as much or as little as he likes, but part of the doctor patient relationship is that he has to trust me, and that whatever he tells me won't go any further than my office if he doesn't want it to."

This seemed to irk Molly further, but she nodded. "Alright. Ronald, know that your father and I love you very much. You can always talk to us. You know that, right?"

Ron shuffled his feet and looked down. "Yeah, mum. Of course."

Kissing the top of his head, Ron's mum departed for the waiting room.

"Please, come in Ron. You can get out a game or some toys if you'd like."

Spying a chess set, Ron immediately hurried over and got it out, taking it over to the table by the couch.

Dr. Thymer smiled and nodded. "I was on the chess team back in school. I think I can remember how to play."

Opening the box, Ron saw that the pieces were white and red, and picked up a red knight, fingering it. "White OK for you?"

"Of course."

In a moment, the board was set. Dr. Thymer opened with the classic King's Indian Attack, and Ron smiled. Only Hermione ever bothered to read chess books, and she was still pretty rubbish if you could force her to make a move not prescribed by the book. Ron moved his pieces conservatively, trying to get a feel for Dr. Thymer's style.

"So, what do we talk about anyway? Or do we just play chess?"

"Well, that depends. What do you want to talk about Ron? I've read your file of course, know what you've been through, but it's really up to you."

Pondering the board state, Ron reached for a pawn and moved it to try to get Dr. Thymer to break her formation and leave her pieces vulnerable. "Well, I dunno. You know about Dean and Seamus, I guess?"

"I do. That was a very horrible thing to witness. I heard you acted very bravely, saving your friend Neville's life and refusing to give up anything on Harry that could have helped your enemy."

"Yeah, well, I guess." Ron was silent for a moment, then blurted, "I wet myself. No one ever mentions it, but I keep thinking about it. They talk about how brave I was, but I was a bloody coward. Face to face with evil, and all I could do was swear and piss myself."

"That's nothing to be ashamed of. I've spoken with hardened combat veterans before, and many of them wet themselves in battle, or even pooped their pants."

"Soldiers told you they shat themselves?" Ron demanded, goggling at the doctor. "But, they're supposed to be brave."

"Most of them were quite brave. You have very little control over your body's autonomic responses to fear, such as sweat, shakes, or voiding of the bladder and bowels. But even when the brave have shakes, or sweat, or soil their trousers, they still find their courage and do the right thing. They charge into danger to save their friends. Isn't that what you did?"

Ron stared at the board hopelessly, he'd let himself get trapped. "I was running away though," Ron muttered. "I was the fastest, and I was leaving Dean and Seamus behind. Neville too. I stopped only because Darth Stupidus got in my way. I was a coward."

"You are and were a child. Lord Voldemort, or whatever you wish to call him, is a very dark and powerful man. You had no hope of fighting him. Running to safety was the wise thing to do. But when you couldn't run, you kept your head, and saved two lives. What happened to Dean and Seamus was not your fault, Ron."

Tears started to trickle down Ron's check and he sniffed, wiping his nose on his shirt sleeve. "It feels like it was. Like maybe if I'd had a proper wand, I'd've been able to do something."

"Maybe, but I doubt it. You were up against a hardened killer who even the most powerful magic users around had fallen before. Even if you'd had a gun or some other weapon, how could you have used it?"

"But I could have done something, right?"

"You did do something. You acted quickly and saved Neville's life. He told me about it, you know. He was here last week. He blames himself just as much as you do. He thought that if he'd been a bit faster, used a better curse, had a better wand, he could have saved his friends as well."

"That's stupid. He did hex Darth Stupidus. Kicked him in the bollocks too, and told him to go to hell. He was so brave, but then his wand got snapped, and he was thrown off the edge, and all I could do was try to save him."

"If it was stupid for Neville to think he could have done better, why do you believe that you could have done differently?" Dr. Thymer moved her queen, and Ron felt a surge of triumph: she'd made a mistake.

"Well, um, I dunno. Check."

"Hmm. You're surprisingly good at this Ron. I think that's mate in five?"

"I had it as mate in seven, but yeah I think so. Want to go again?"

All in all, they played chess and talked for an hour. Some of it about what had happened on the train, other times about the pressure Ron felt at home or his jealousy towards Harry for not having such a huge family, and finally about quidditch which Dr. Thymer was completely ignorant about. At the end of an hour, Ron's mother came back.

"So, how was it?" she asked, obviously trying not to be nosy but unable to help a simple question.

"OK. We just played chess and talked."

"Oh. Well, did it help?"

Ron thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. I guess it did. She said I could come back in a couple of weeks and play again. Do you think that'd be OK?"

Molly studied her son. He was walking slightly taller, and his steps seemed to swing a bit more freely than usual. She realized that somehow, whatever the muggle mind healer had done had helped her son feel just a bit happier. "I think we could manage that."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"Ah, Albus, come in, come in!"

Dumbledore allowed himself to be ushered into Fudge's office, taking the offered seat as Fudge sat behind his desk and smiled brightly at him. "Chocolate frog? I do know how you love your sweets," Fudge offered.

Dumbledore smiled genially and accepted a frog, unwrapping the card first, then popping the animated chocolate in his mouth. "Would you look at that. Another Merlin. You know, I never can seem to find one of myself. Such a shame."

Fudge chuckled and nodded, then folded his hands. "Well Albus, it was certainly an eventful year at Hogwarts, wasn't it? That terrible incident on the train, and of course that horrible terrorist attack-"

"Voldemort's attack was horrific, Cornelius, but it should only serve to strengthen our resolve What's this I have heard about you withdrawing the inquests into the financial records of those who may have contributed to Voldemort's campaign in the last war?"

"Albus, Albus, there is so very little to go on, and should we not let bygones be bygones? After all, there was a muggle who penetrated the defenses of Hogwarts. That is not something to take lightly."

Dumbledore regarded Fudge carefully. What was he playing at? "The love of a child can compel one to do great and wonderful things, Cornelius."

That of course, was a load of hogwash, and Dumbledore and Fudge both knew that. Dumbledore still had not figured out how one man, one muggle man at that, had managed to defeat Britain's most powerful and ancient anti-muggle charms. The charms were not completely foolproof of course; they were neither lethal nor strong enough to drive one mad, and there were records that they had been breached once before in 1751 by a very confused and lost old monk, but there was evidence he had been a squib.

"I don't think so, Albus," Fudge said softly. "You're losing your touch."

Dumbledore sat up straight, his spectacles flashing dangerously. "What are you implying, Cornelius."

Fudge couldn't meet Dumbledore's gaze for long, and he coughed and began shuffling papers on his desk. "Well, you are just one man, Albus. And you are getting up there in years. It seems you are not quite as capable as you once were. Three security breaches in one year? That's a serious problem. This is why the Wizengamot passed the resolution yesterday."

"What resolution, Cornelius? The Wizengamot has no authority to govern Hogwarts or to appoint its headmaster. That is done by the Board of Governors, and it always has been."

"Yes, well, the Wizengamot is allowed to govern itself." Fudge handed Dumbledore a piece of parchment.

"You've ousted me as Chief Warlock, I see. And removed me as Britain's senior representative to the ICW was well. That would mean I am no longer Supreme Mugwump."

"Yes." Fudge briefly met Dumbledore's eyes, then looked away again, breaking out in a cold sweat. "Hogwarts is quiet enough for one man to manage, I should think. It's best you focus on that. You've always said it was your first and greatest duty."

"Indeed." Dumbledore's voice was soft and gentle, but that only seemed to make Fudge even more nervous. "And who have you selected as your new Chief Warlock? Malfoy? Nott? Parkinson? Goyle, perhaps? He would be easy to manipulate."

"No, don't take me for a fool," Fudge snapped. "I nominated Barty Crouch Senior."

Dumbledore was taken aback at that news. Far from being a sympathiser to the pureblood cause or Dark Lords, Barty Crouch was a steadfast, if someone overzealous and tainted, champion of the Light. "Well. I am certain he will do a fine job of it."

Fudge sneered at Dumbledore. "Yes, he will. He owes me for this. People see it as me taking a hard line, and you should as well. Crough will be conducting new, more thorough investigations. I've not been sitting on my hands you know. You just worry about keeping your school safe." Fudge glanced around nervously, then leaned forward. "You don't suppose the Longbottom boy would be willing to put in an appearance at the Midsummer ball? I've been writing Augusta, but she hasn't been returning my owls."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at Fudge. "Why, Cornelius, I'm just a simple headmaster. What makes you think I have the political pull for such a feat?"

"Hmph. Well played. See how it serves you later."

Dumbledore took his leave, taking one more chocolate frog from the bowl as he headed for the door. "Don't hesitate to contact me if you truly need help for something more than a publicity stunt, Cornelius. Dark times are ahead, and we who walk in the Light need to stand together."

He did not wait for Fudge's reply, instead heading for his former office, that of the Supreme Mugwump. Inside he found Barty Crouch Senior busily decorating the office in his own image. A house elf was boxing up the various portraits and nicknacks Dumbledore had decorated the office with, and setting out busts and pictures of Barty Crouch capturing Dark Wizards, Barty Couch in judges robes, and of course, Barty Couch turning his back on his own son as he was banished to Azkaban. Dumbledore frowned at that picture. That had been a dark day indeed.

"Ah, Albus, I'm glad you're here! Very quick too, I didn't owl for you even an hour ago."

Dumbledore turned and smiled at the stern, mustachioed face of Barty. He shook the offered hand firmly. "I confess, I never received the owl. Cornelius summoned me today to give me the news that you'd taken my old job. And to inform me that I no longer held said job."

Crouch grimaced. "I thought...damn. This is rather uncomfortable then. Winky! Whiskey for the headmaster and myself!"

"Yes, master," Winky said, sniffing slightly. She was soon poured two tumblers of whiskey for the two men. As she did so, she looked at Dumbledore with huge, sad eyes, then began weeping and popped away. Albus frowned.

"You have been treating your elf kindly, haven't you, Barty?"

"I show her nothing but affection," Barty half snarled. Then he sighed and shook his head. "She still blames me, you know. For Junior. And Anabell." He finished his whisky in a single gulp, then poured another glass. "Almost as much as I blame myself."

That statement took Dumbledore aback. "You regret your actions in regards to your son? Do you believe he may have been innocent?"

"Oh, no, he was guilty of the crimes he was charged with," Crouch said, swirling the glowing firewhiskey in his glass. "But...he was my son. It broke his mother's heart, you know. I killed them both. But...but it was justice. I have to tell myself that."

"Justice is a cold mistress," Dumbledore observed.

Crouch nodded, downing his glass, then setting it aside. "Indeed. But someone must make the hard choices. Someone has to be the faithful servant."

"True. I confess when I first heard I had been replaced, I feared it would be with a former or not so former death eater. But when I heard it was you-"

Crouch began to laugh raucously, wiping away a tear from his eye. "All your fears vanished! I know, poor, poor Lucius. He thought it would be him, or his new pet Umbridge. But oh no, Cornelius was too crafty for that. Thinks he has me in his pocket he does."

"Does he?" Dumbledore asked, studying Crouches face. Something was subtly different about the man. He hadn't really talked to Barty in years, and people did change, but still…

"There will only ever be one master that I serve, Albus," Crouch said, looking the headmaster in the eye for a brief moment before looking longingly at the bottle. He raised his wand and vanished it, along with his glass. "And Fudge is not who I am beholden to."

"As I said before, justice offers only cold comfort."

"True. But know this, Albus. In many ways, our aims are the same." He looked up and stared Dumbledore dead in the eye. "There is nothing I hate more than a Death Eater who walked free."

For a brief moment, Dumbledore touched Crouches mind, and found him to be speaking the truth. He had almost an obsessive hatred for any servant of Voldemort who walked free. For the others, he did not, but Dumbledore saw his son first among that number, and he could understand why Barty couldn't truly hate him.

"There is more to life than justice, Barty. Try to remember that."

Crouch grimaced and looked away. "I'll try. But I've walked this path too long and too firmly to try a new one at this point. Fear not, though. I'll gladly spare any who truly serve the same master as I." He suddenly stood, raising his wand and floating the box of Dumbledore's things over. "I apologize, but there is much work to be done. I can have Winky take this over, if you would like."

"No need," Dumbledore said, waving his wand and shrinking the box to a more manageable size. "It is good to see this office in capable hands. Do feel free to call on me, Barty. I'm always willing to give a word of advice or a helping hand."

Barty grinned, and the old predatory look came back to his face. "Oh, I think at some point I'll require a bit of your blood and tears to get this place truly straightened out. But what's a little sacrifice ever meant to a couple of old warriors, eh?"

As Dumbledore left, he shuddered slightly, and thanked Merlin that Barty Crouch was on the side of the Light. He was a most terrifying and implacable foe to have.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Greyback knelt before the masked and robed figure, his lips pulled back in a snarl.

"The master has a mission for you, wolf."

Greyback wiped the blood from his cheek where the cutting hex had sliced it open, licking his fingers to savor the iron tang. "How do I know you're from him, eh? That old alliance was-"

The figure rolled up his sleeve, revealing a glowing dark mark. "You see, the master returns, fool. Those loyal to him shall be rewarded. Even one such as you. Perhaps, if you prove your worth, you shall even receive a mark of your own."

Growling, Fenrir nodded. "Alright, fine, you're from The Dark Lord. But what does he want of me, and what will be my reward?"

"Serving the Dark Lord is it's own reward. But, as the Dark Lord knows what you most desire, he shall provide it to you. Your first mission is this: to bite one of the Weasley brats."

Fenrir perked up at this. He rather liked the thought of infecting the child of an old pureblood line. "Well, that I might be willing to do. But attacking the Burrow alone wouldn't be easy or safe. Why risk my neck to do it?"

"Wretch." The masked figure dropped a large bag at Fenrir's feet. "This is your payment. Along with it is a list of other targets. Between now and the start of term at Hogwarts, infect as many of them as possible. The master wishes to sow dissention in the ranks of those who would defy him, and recruit some of them to his cause. After all, is the Dark Lord not known to favor those blessed by the wolf?"

He was known to do no such thing, but the prospect of payment to do what he so loved in the first place….

"I don't know if you serve the Dark Lord or not, but I'll help anyone who wishes some wizarding brats bitten. Do they need to survive?

"Yes," the masked figure growled. "If at all possible, infect only. However, their parents are under no such restriction. And of course, the Dark Lord understands if sometimes extreme methods must be used."

Fenrir grinned. "Of course."

Once the masked figure left, Greyback carefully read over the list of names. He wasn't surprised to see some of the names: Bones, Weasley, Brown. Those were names of old enemies, and ones that he was not surprised that the Dark Lord wanted punished. But other names….Greengrass. Zabini. What were they doing on the list? Greyback shrugged. He didn't really care. He was being paid to infect the children of the wizarding world. He wouldn't question the motives behind it. Time for some reconnaissance. The full moon was soon, and Greyback intended to turn his first new child.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

 _Authors note:_

 _And this is where I'm calling Year 1 of this story. Don't worry, I've already got year 2 already written and will begin work on year 3 shortly. The story will continue to update under the Iron Lady, as I don't see the point in splitting it off. However, I am going to take a hiatus of a few weeks to edit year 2 and make sure that it properly foreshadows year 3 in the right places. When updates resume in April of 2017, expect the normal twice weekly schedule to continue._

 _In the meantime, check out my other stories! A Ballad of Wolves and Serpents features Harry bitten by a werewolf, and forced to confront the other uncomfortable realities of the wizarding world from a purely magical side (plus, he's raised by one of my all time favorite characters, Remus Lupin). Like a Red Headed Stepchild asks the very important question: What would have happened if Harry had red hair? The answer? Screwball comedy of course!_


	32. Chapter 31: Begin Year 2

_This document beta'd by the knowledgeable Mary Helen_

 _Chapter 31: Where Howls the Wolf_

July was a pleasant month in Ottery St Catchpole, and Bill Weasley whistled to himself as he crossed over the bridge that lead to the wood that few of the villagers ever bothered to venture far into. They all thought it was their own idea not to go deeper, but the reality was that the defenses around the ancestral home of the Weasley's were such that they kept anyone without magic from venturing very far in. Normally Bill would have simply apparated or taken the floo to the Burrow, but he was feeling a tad nostalgic today, and had apparated some distance away to enjoy the walk.

The greenery of England was a pleasant change from the dusty desert valleys of Egypt where Bill was currently working. He'd taken a short leave from his curse breaking work to visit his family, after his mother and father had dropped several hints that he was urgently needed at home. Even his employers had been willing to send him off oddly enough, granting him leave without pay to visit home, which was really odd for goblins. In the end, he'd just decided to take it at face value and accept the leave. Besides, he was still concerned about his younger siblings. He'd heard about the Battle on the Express through the grapevine, and combined with the attack in the winter, it was becoming increasingly unsafe to be a Weasley at Hogwarts.

Taking out his wand, Bill spun it through his fingers a few times as he approached the boundary stone, ready to identify himself. It was one thing to drop by announced, another to march through the defenses and trigger an alarm. He raised his wand, ready pass through and-

A bolt of lightning struck Bill. The world was a cacophony of noise and sound, blinding and deafening him all at once. Bill clung to his wand, trying to muster shield when he felt two small pricks in his back. Pain and energy coursed into Bill, and he gasped and dropped to his knees, blacking out as it all became too much for his battered brain to handle.

"Ah, bloody hell. He's one o' them, ain't he? Their oldest, William, right?"

"Well, he could be in disguise. No one told us he was coming, yeah?"

"Oh, one of them potions or whatnot, right?"

"Or an illusion. Glamour or something. So don't take off the handcuffs."

"I'm not that stupid, Baker, and you know it."

Blinking, Bill forced himself back to consciousness. He looked up at what appeared to be two talking bushes at first glance. He blinked again, and realized it was two men with paint smeared all over their faces, with twigs and leaves decorating their strangely colored clothes. If they hadn't been talking, Bill would have walked right by them as a part of the forest. Which on second thought, was probably exactly what he had done.

"Alright, don't talk," the one called Baker said. "We know you're a wizard. Found the wand and everything. Got that locked up tight we do. So you just lay here until someone gets here to identify you. We used the wireless, they'll be here soon."

"Who are you, and what are you doing on my family's land," Bill growled, trying to sit up. The other man put a boot on his chest.

"Woah there lad. You just stay put until the lieutenant and one of the maggies get here. Hate to have to shock you again." He held up a strange looking wand of some sort, made of a shiny black metal.

"Oi, French, Baker, what have you got there?"

Only Baker turned to address the new voice, French keeping his boot on Bill's chest. "Intruder sir," Baker called. "He had a wand, and we weren't told we'd be having any visitors today. Decided to play it safe."

"Who is it, are they hostile?" a voice Bill recognized called.

"Dammit Percy, tell these idiots to get off of me and let me go!" Bill shouted, struggling feebly under the boot.

His brother's shocked face peered over French's soldier, then Percy began shoving at the man. "Get off him, that's my brother, Bill!"

"Hold on Recruit, how do we know he's your brother?" the officer said. "Have him identify himself. Follow protocol."

"Oh, er, right. Um, what was the name of my pet rat?"

Bill said a variety of colorful phrases, none of them repeatable, to describe Percy's rat. "Oh, also he was called Scabbers and you found him in the garden and snuck him into your bedroom. Mum was livid when she found out, but you begged and nearly cried and she let you keep him." This was followed by even more imaginative descriptions of the rat, as well as French and Baker.

"Yeah, that's definitely Bill," Percy assured the men. "Now let him up, you didn't hurt him did you?"

"Hit him with a flashbang and got him with the cattle prod," French said, letting his boot off of Bill and reaching down to uncuff Bill. "Sorry about that, can't be too careful. Don't want some Death Eater chap to waltz in and try to murder the family, eh?" The man smiled and offered a hand. "No hard feelings, right?"

Bill didn't say anything, but accepted the hand up, brushing himself off. "Percy, who are these people? Where did dad get the money to hire a squad of hit wizards?"

"Er, they're not exactly...why don't you come to the house and mum can explain things?"

Bill glared at the men, but they didn't follow past the boundary line, blending back into the forest in their strange clothes. Bill shuddered slightly. He didn't think it was magic, and that bothered him. It wasn't a far walk to the house, and Percy was going fairly quickly. After the beating he'd taken, Bill had to work to keep up with his younger brother. That surprised him; Percy had always been the bookish sort, not athletic at all like his other brothers. He did seemed to have built up some muscle now; his arms were still wiry, but lined with lean muscle.

"Mum, Bill's home," Percy called into the house.

He half made to go, but Bill grabbed him by the shoulder. "Oh no you don't. You've got some explaining to do, Perse."

Bill's mum appeared in a moment, and Bill gasped in shock. Her round face had gotten substantially thinner, her frizzy hair pulled back in a bun. "Mum, have you been well?" Bill asked, stepping forward to embrace her.

"Oh yes, yes I've been quite well William. Oh, it is so good to see you! Why didn't you tell us you were coming? Oh! Your face is all dirty. Those gentleman guarding the woods, they didn't give you any trouble did they?"

"Yeah, about that," Bill said. "My ears are still ringing and I've got spots at the edges of my vision. They hit me with something, but I don't think it was a spell. Who were they?"

Mrs. Weasley flushed, her eyes filling with tears. "Oh! Bill, I am so sorry! We've had to take extra security precautions. There was the awful attack by You-Know-Who at Christmas, then that awful man disguised as Scabbers, then the fight on the train, and well…"

As his mum told him the whole story, Bill had to sit down. He could hardly believe his ears at what he was hearing from his mother, and when he glanced at Percy, he saw his younger brother nodding along as if the whole story made sense.

"But this is madness!" Bill said when his mother's tale wound down. "The muggles know! And those men who attacked me, they were muggles too, weren't they? Don't you see, they're not here to guard you, they're here to make you prisoners! Have you even got your wands, they took mine!"

"Oh, er, I've got that," Percy said, holding up Bill's wand. "Didn't want to give it back until you knew. Can't have you hexing Second Lieutenant Young or Privates Baker or French."

"Give me that," Bill snarled, snatching his wand from Percy. "There is something seriously wrong here. Those muggles are a menace, and-"

"They stopped one attack already, Bill," Mrs. Weasley said quietly. "They drove off Fenrir Greyback. He came sniffing around close to the last full moon. We think he was going to try and bite one of your siblings."

"I-what? Greyback, here? When?"

"Two weeks ago," Percy said, folding his arms across his chest. "The first thing we knew about it was the alarm sounding, and a voice over the wireless they'd driven off a mad half man, half beast. They got a photo of him on one of the surveillance cameras though, and it was Greyback alright. They shot him as he ran, but with his healing ability that close to the full moon he probably survived."

"Alright, so maybe the muggle guards are a necessary evil, but that still doesn't explain why my whole family is violating the Statute of Secrecy like it's nothing. This is a serious crime! Not to mention you're putting wizards in danger the world over."

"It's the only way to keep our family safe, William, Mrs. Weasley snapped. "I had thought you'd understand that. Without the help of Harry and his muggle friends, Ronald could have been killed last term! And one of my children might be a werewolf!"

"I seem to recall that it was Minerva McGonagall, not a muggle, who saved Ron!"

"Bill, what's gotten into you?" Percy demanded. "I thought you'd be all for this. They're here to help us, to keep our family safe, and finally get rid Darth, er, of You-Know-Who for good!"

Bill rounded on his brother. "And I thought you would have a bit more respect for the rules! Listen, maybe here in England the muggles are not so bad. But I haven't bloody well lived in England for the last two years, in case you hadn't noticed. I'm living in Egypt! I've been to Syria, Iran, Ethiopia, even the Sudan! And you know what? Those would be pretty awful place to live if the muggles caught wind of magic! They're all religious nutters. Not like Charlie, a bloke who goes to church on Sundays and says a little prayer because his girlfriend does and it makes him sleep better is one thing. But these muggles are fanatics! They execute muggleborns if they find out they have magic because bloody Allah or Jesus or whoever says they have to! If they knew wizards were real, we'd have a war on our hands before you can say jihad!"

Percy was taken aback, he hadn't thought of things that way, only of how maybe the muggle authorities had a say on how people lived, and on keeping his family safe.

"William Fabian Weasley! This is our family we are talking about. I don't see how ignorant muggles in far off places live has anything to do with us! We called you back here to ask you to help us keep our family safe! Not to threaten to expose us and destroy our family forever."

"I'm not going to turn you in, mum," Bill said, raising his hands to ward off a further outburst. "It's just...this is a lot to take in. I'm all for the Statue of Secrecy, but if our family really is in danger...I just don't know. Family is important, but at what cost?"

"Family, at any cost," Mrs. Weasley said firmly.

Bill sighed. "For you, maybe. I don't know about that for me. Give my wand back Percy. I'm not going to start hexing the men keeping werewolves away, and I'm not going to apparate to the ministry and betray my own blood."

Percy handed over the wand, looking slightly forlorn. Bill knew that Percy used to be jealous of his good looks, of his success with the ladies, and of the fact that he had a lucrative, promising career in exotic places. Now though, Percy had changed greatly. But he was still family. "I'm going out to the pitch for a bit to fly. Want to join me?"

Percy hesitated, then shook his head. "No. I'm on watch duty with Lieutenant Young until dad gets back. Maybe later, Bill."

Alone, Bill left the house and walked to the broom shed, grabbing the first one that his hand touched. He stopped in surprise when he saw what it was. Ron's Cleansweep 10. He closed his eyes, remember seeing his brother's broken body at Saint Mungos, nearly killed by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. His mum and dad would do anything, swear allegiance to anyone, if it meant their children would be safe. Once, me might have been willing to do the same. But he was his own man now, and he felt as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Sighing, he put the broom back and selected his old Shooting Star. A little connection to the past wouldn't be unwelcome right now.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The whistle blew, and Neville grabbed ahold of the rope, feeling his gloves heat as he plummeted through the air. A dark wizard popped up behind a table, and Neville fired once with his pistol. He winced when he saw that the shot was off center, but it had still hit and he advanced, walking carefully down the stairs. Two more targets appeared and Neville fired off three shots, the second going wide, but one of his shots scored a dead center hit, and Neville continued on, checking both ways through the doorway. Another dark robed figure popped up and Neville fired twice, both shots connecting. Seeing the last doorway, Neville ran forward, firing at the three figures that popped up as he approached. His pistol clicked empty and he reloaded as he sprinted across the finish line.

"One minute six seconds!" the trainer called. "Twelve rounds expended, six targets down." Neville groaned and shook his head.

"Not bad Neville," Ron said encouragingly. He'd made it in fifty eight seconds, and gotten all seven targets in eleven rounds.

Harry nodded, coming over to slap Neville on the back. "That's cracking good after only six weeks of training." Easy for Harry to say: he'd completed the course in forty seven seconds with seven targets in nine rounds, none of his shots having missed.

Neville watched as Hermione went through the course. She went slowly and methodically, not hurrying, but still finishing well within the limit of one hundred seconds at seventy three seconds. She fired seven times, and got seven hits, five of them head shots.

"Very good recruits," Sergeant Fields told them, nodding her approval. "For a bunch of sprogs, you did quite well."

"How fast can you do the course?" Neville asked.

Fields winked. "Twenty three seconds, seven shots, seven hits. But I've been at this a lot longer than you lot have."

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered.

At the building's exit Harry's father waited, his newly shaved head gleaming in the florescent lights of the training building. "Very nice, very nice. Neville, Ron, Hermione, you have all qualified to be issued your own personal weapons. Go with Sergeant Fields, she'll issue you them from the armory."

Neville nodded eagerly, following after Fields with Hermione and Ron. They were each issued a P230 with ammo and a shoulder holster identical to the one Harry carried with him. Neville checked his gun reverently, imagining how different his life would be if he'd had this on the night his parents had been attacked. He pictured himself killing or driving off the Death Eaters, and his parents grinning at him and giving him a warm hug. The day dream dissolved, and Neville closed his weapon back in its case. His parents might be permanently insane, but he could still prevent other children from suffering the same fate growing up he had.

"No more like Dean and Seamus'," Ron said quietly as he picked up his own gun case. Neville nodded in agreement.

"Not on our watch."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/

It was a beautiful summer day in the Highlands of Scotland, the few scattered clouds standing out against the bright sun. The breeze was light, just enough to cool the skin and freshen the air. Birds sang amidst the willows along a rocky creek bang, where the sound of splashing could be heard.

Daphne and her sister Astoria walked along the creek bank, laughing and barefoot in the August heat. "Do you think I'll end up in Slytherin with you?" Astoria asked for what must be the thousandth time. She was starting Hogwarts in a few weeks, and was torn between frantic excitement and nail biting concern.

"Probably," Daphne said. A year ago she wouldn't have considered anything else. They had both been their mother's daughters, devoted to the idea climbing the social ladder by any means necessary. Now though, Daphne had other ambitions. Namely, to become the best witch she could, not for personal gain, but to help keep her friends and family safe. War had come to Daphne's life far sooner than it should have, and with it the reality that some things in life were far more valuable than others. She wasn't sure her baby sister understood that yet though.

"I think mum would kill me if I ended up anywhere else. Except for maybe Ravenclaw, she always did say that there had to be more to a woman than looks."

"Astoria, you'll be my sister no matter where you end up. I have friends in every house you know, and I'm fond of all of them. It doesn't really matter what house you end up in, only that you try your best."

"Wow. Last year you said you'd make dad send you to Beauxbaton if you ended up in any house but Slytherin."

"Last year I didn't have my own house betray me because I happened to enjoy spending time with so-called blood traitors and muggleborns. People who, mind you, were far kinder to me than any of the oh-so-pure blooded members of my own house."

"If you really think so," Astoria said. She glanced up at the sky. "It's going to be getting dark soon. We'd best be getting back to the manor."

"Where's your spirit of adventure?" Daphne said, stooping to splash water on her sister's face.

"Bleh! You sound like a Gryffindor!"

Shaking out her long blond hair, Daphne grinned at her sister wickedly. "Maybe I should have been in Gryffindor. My best friend Hermione is in Gryffindor, you know. And she's a muggleborn."

"Yeah. You make her sound so…."

"Human," Daphne said firmly. "The word you are looking for is human. Turns out not having two wizarding parents doesn't make you worthless after all."

"Well, mum and dad always said talent could trump blood if you had enough of it," Astoria mused. "Though I don't see how I could ever marry someone who wasn't a pureblood. One of the Sacred 28 would be best I think."

Daphne rolled her eyes. "I think I'd prefer to marry Harry McAlister. I'd even take his muggle name. He's the most powerful and brilliant wizard of his generation."

"Yeah well, he's also famous. I suppose that means something."

"What it means, treat, is that your sister picked the wrong blood traitor to be friends with."

Daphne dropped to her knees, drawing her wand in a smooth motion and pointing it and the hulking figure that had just materialized from behind a large boulder.

" _Impedimenta_!" her spell splashed against the man, but Daphne had grabbed Astoria and was backing away as fast as she cool on the slippery stream bed. " _Flippendo_!"

Her second spell didn't even make the brute flinch. "Impressive. Not bad for a girl. But still. Just the work of a girl."

"W-w-w-w-werewolf!" Astoria screamed as the man's nails lengthened and teeth sharpened. "Help, someone-"

The man had leapt across the stream bed in a flash. With a swipe of his hand, he knocked Daphne's wand away and opened a gash on her arm. She tried to kick out at him, aiming for the groin as she'd been taught, and connecting successfully. It just made the man laugh. He put rough hoods over the two girls heads, muffling their shrieks.

"Oooo! A feisty one, eh? And two delicious little treats for me. Hmm, which to eat, and which to let live? Such hard choices. Ah well. We best be off. Someone might have heard you."

The noxious fumes of the hood choked Daphne, and she tried to get her bearings, but her head swum, and before she knew it, she blacked out.

"Urgh," Daphne moaned. She shook her head, trying to get her bearings. She was tied up with rough cords in a dark room. Someone was at her back, she could feel their head resting on her shoulder. "Astoria! Astoria, is that you?"

She didn't get a response. Frantically, Daphne fought against the bonds, trying get loose and free herself and her sister.

"Don't bother."

Daphne froze, looking up at the black figure that loomed over her. "We're in a muggle village. Not far from your manor, actually. Don't worry, in just a few minutes, an alarm will sound, alerting your parents to your location."

Daphne blinked. "But why?"

White teeth flashed in the darkness. "Why my dear, because the moon is rising now. And I wouldn't want to kill the both of you, now would I?"

"Astoria! Astoria wake up, please, wake up! We have run!" Daphne screamed, thrashing against her bonds.

The man just laughed, and continued to laugh as his form contorted, his clothes ripping and falling away as human flesh was left behind for an enormous wolfen shape.

"No!" Daphne shrieked as the wolf growled and prowled towards her. "Me, get me! Leave my sister alone!" She kicked out at the wolf, which snarled and snapped at her. Daphne screamed as pain shot through her leg, but she didn't relent. Her other foot snapped out, but the werewolf danced away, prowling towards Astoria's still unconscious form.

With a great effort, Daphne flung the chair to the floor, shattering it. She tried to get loose of her bounds and attack the wolf, but she wasn't fast enough. Astoria screamed as wakefulness came as the werewolf's claws savaged her face. There was a bang and a flash of light, and Daphne found herself and her sister sitting on the roof of the cottage as the wolf snarled and howled below them. Suddenly, she began to slide away, and Daphne's hands scrambled for purchase on the slick slate tiles.

"Daphne!" Astoria screamed, wiping away blood to reach for her sister. "Take my hand!"

"No, you'll just slide down too!" Daphne shouted. She couldn't find a purchase, and slid right past Astoria's outstretched hand. Desperately she gripped at the roof, but only succeeded in opening fresh cuts on her hands and ripping out her fingernails. She wept, looking down to see the werewolf pacing, its jaws dripping with drool as it waiting to pounce on her and consume her.

"No. Not like this!" Daphne grabbed onto the edge of the room, her training over the last few months paying off as muscles bunched and strained, successfully keeping her from falling to the ground. She sighed in relief, then screamed and nearly let go. The wolf had lept, jumping to bite her leg once more as it dangled from the low roof. Daphne tried to lift her leg up, but it was so injured she couldn't manage it.

 _Oh God, I'm going to die._

White pain filled the edges of Daphne's vision, and she felt her grip slipping. She looked up to see Astoria's blood and tear streaked face. "You were always my best friend, Astoria. I love you."

Her sister screamed, and blackness took Daphne as she fell.

 _Authors Note:_

 _And we're back! Big thank you to my two new betas, Mary Helan and LadyDisdain2014, who have been helping me beta new and old chapters for an enhanced reading experience._


	33. Chapter 32

_Chapter 32: The Price of Friendship_

Slowly, the world came back into focus. The room smelled of cleaning charms and potions, and the light was bright and steady. This wasn't the manor. Where was she. What had- The werewolf!

She sat bolt upright, looking around in terror. "My sister, where's my sister!"

In a moment, strong hands were forcing her back down. "Shh, it's alright dear. Your sister is fine. Better of than you are I'd imagine."

Settling back on the bed, Daphne gazed up at the man's face. "She's alright then? She wasn't…she didn't get bitten, did she?"

The man's expression soured, and he shook his head. "No. But she was scratched, all over her face. If it hadn't been for her accidental magic apparating the two of you up to the roof though, you'd have both died in all likelihood. That was a vicious, premeditated attack."

Suddenly, Daphne realized what it all meant. Her sister was a werewolf. And she…"I can't feel my leg," Daphne whispered.

"I'm sorry. Werewolf bites are dark magic. The very blackest. What remained of your right leg had to be amputated. It was too far gone. You're quite lucky, Miss Greengrass, that the leg was all you lost."

"I'm a werewolf," Daphne said in a daze. "A one legged werewolf."

"Dad? Is she-ohgoddaphne!" Suddenly, Daphne found herself in a warm embrace. She saw the pink head of hair, and let herself relax and fall into the embrace, weeping into the fluorescent hair.

"Professor, I'm a werewolf!" Daphne cried several minutes later, her head buried in Tonks' chest as she sobbed. "My sister, she's a werewolf too! And my leg, my leg, oh Merlin my leg!"

"Shhh. It's alright, sprog," Tonks said, gently rocking Daphne. "You'll be OK. My dad's gone to fetch your parents. They'd taken your sister to the garden for some fresh air. I'm sure they'll want to see you, now that you're finally awake."

"They're going to disown me," Daphne sniffed.

Tonks pushed Daphne away, frowning down at the young girl. "They'll do no such thing. You're their daughter, and they love you. Whatever else, that won't change."

Daphne continued as if she hadn't heard Tonks at all. "How can you even touch me? I'm a filthy dark creature now, I'm not even human!"

Smack! Daphne froze, her hand raising to her reddening cheek. She gazed up at Tonks in shock. Her professor had never gotten angry at her before, even when she'd been rude or cheeky or dozed off in class. "You listen to me, and you listen well. You're sick. Cursed. Maimed. But you are still human as the rest of us. Look at me!" Tonks shifted her face, turning it into a hideous mask. "I'm a metaamorphmagus. Does that mean I'm not human?"

Dumbly, Daphne shook her head. "You're damn right it doesn't. Just like being a werewolf doesn't mean you're not a brilliant young witch anymore. You hear me?"

"Yes ma'am," Daphne mumbled.

"Good." Tonks stood, smiling down at Daphne. "I can hear your family coming. I'll be in the hall, standing watch. You're safe now. My dad is the best healer I know. You're in good hands."

Moments later Daphne's father and mother burst into the room, trailed by a Astoria. Daphne wept all over again, hugging her parents and trying to find the pieces of her broken world.

"What will I do?" She asked her father. "How can I go back to Hogwarts?"

"The headmaster has already contacted us," her father said. "He's taken care of it. You and your sister will still start term with everyone else."

"But, none of the other parents will let their children go to school with a werewolf!" Daphne protested.

Her mother shook her head. "They won't know. Since your a minor, your name was withheld in the news of the attack. Since it happened in a muggle village, everyone will think it was two muggle girls your father and I saved, not our children."

"But my leg, Astoria's face, how could we hide it?"

"You'll be fitted with the very best prosthetic," Her father promised. "We can't regrow it since it was a werewolf bite that destroyed your leg, but we can fit you with a magical prosthetic that no one will ever be able to tell the difference from."

"Your sister will go under a glamour," her mother said firmly. "I'll show you the spell so you can help her with it. She need never be found out, so long as no one touches her face."

Daphne peered past her parents to her sister, who stood quietly along the far wall. "You saved my life. Thank you, Astoria."

"I thought you'd hate me," her sister whispered. "You were brilliant when that man attacked. If I hadn't been there to slow you down, you could have stopped him with your magic. How did you learn such spells in only a year?"

"The Defense Club. You'll be joining us. Every day, exercise, spell practice, martial arts. Next time, we'll blow up that bloody beast if he dares show his face again. Who was it, do we know?"

Her father hesitated, his eyes full of fear. "Not for certain."

Daphne could see the lie, but didn't call her father on it. "OK. I guess we'll be alright." She smiled at her sister. "Better hope for another house, Astoria. I don't think you'd be a good fit for Slytherin after all. Gryffindor for sure."

Astoria burst into tears, and flung herself into her sister's arms.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

The end of August had arrived, and with it, only a day remained until Harry returned to Hogwarts. He had spent the last two a half months training with Neville, Hermione, and the Weasley brothers, frantically trying to get ready for whatever new challenges the next year would bring.

Harry had a feeling that a large number of those challenges would arise from Hogwarts new security professor, his Godfather and magical guardian, Sirius Black. Harry had exchanged a few letters with Black since his visit over the Easter Holidays a few months previous, but aside from that he'd avoided contact. His Godfather had tried to get Harry to visit him in Tuscany over the summer, but Harry had begged off, citing a long planned family vacation. At some point, he would have to agree to spend some more time with Black, but for now that was on the distant horizon.

"You sure it will be OK for all my friends to come to our house?" Harry asked his father. "I mean, Ron and Hermione and Neville of course, but all the members of the defense club are not exactly clued in to our grand scheme."

"Of course. You want to maintain those friendships, make sure that everyone knows you still care about them. It's only natural for you to invite them all over for your birthday party. It will be perfectly safe, we'll have an action team nearby in case anything goes wrong. We haven't heard from that werewolf since he was driven off from the Weasley's and it's the new moon anyway."

Harry nodded, glad that no one had been bitten by Greyback. According to Fred and George, he was a notorious monster who delighted in infecting children with his dark curse and tormenting their families. He'd worked for Darth Stupidus, also known as Lord Voldemort, in the past war, but had never been captured, mostly due to the magical resistance a werewolf had.

"Well, it will be fun at least. And a good chance to show the other members of the club how we norms celebrate since a lot of them come from magical families. Did you ever hear if Dr. Patil heard from his family?"

"Yes, he said he spent a weekend in Bristol with his brother and nieces. He was a bit shocked that they'd reached out to him after all this time, but took it as a good sign."

"Good. Parvati and Padma said they'd try to talk their parents into getting into touch with him. Glad to hear they managed it."

The day of Harry's birthday party had arrived, and the house was once again decorated with festive ribbons and balloons. A large sign out front welcomed guests to Harry's Birthday Bash. The guest list was a little different from last year. Harry had briefly spoken with Aaron and a few of his other old mates, but they'd grown so distant in the last year Harry didn't even really consider inviting them. He did extend invitations to the entire Hogwarts Defense club, and most all of his friends responded with an enthusiastic affirmative that they would indeed attend. Hermione had helped Harry include directions on how to take the muggle bus or train, since most of his friends had little experience with that sort of thing.

Also on the guest list was Professor Tonks and Hagrid, who had been far and away Harry's favorite teachers. Hagrid had also shown up uninvited last year, but he'd been such a hit Harry figured he should invite the big man and make it official. First to arrive were Hermione and her parents, along with their escort, a black van that discreetly parked at the end of the drive. With mounting concerns that Voldemort or his supporters could renew hostilities at any time, no one was taking any chances. Hermione and her parents helped set up the last of the decorations, and also provided small bags with toothpaste and toothbrushes for the guests.

"It's very important to properly clean your teeth after eating sweets," Mrs. Granger had lectured. "I do hope there are some sugar free alternatives available. It isn't good for young teeth to be showered with sugar."

"I bet your birthday dinners are loads of fun," Becky whispered to Hermione.

"No, actually," Hermione said, grimacing. "Between the ban on sweets and my lack of social skills, my birthdays have tended towards the boring for ages."

"We'll make sure you get a proper birthday next time," Becky vowed. "When is it?"

"September 19th."

Harry looked at Hermione in shock. "What? You never told us that. We would have at least sang you happy birthday."

"Well, to be honest, I've never really had friends to tell about my birthdays before," Hermione admitted.

"Well you do now. We'll have a proper bash," Harry vowed.

"It's a Saturday, so we'll probably have detention with Snape," Hermione grumbled.

"We'll skive off. I wouldn't mind skipping occlumency lessons for a day."

Anthony Goldstein and the Patil twins arrived right on time, bearing gifts and grins. "Do your balloons change shape or color at all?" Parvati asked, poking at one of the latex spheres.

"Um, no, should they?" Harry asked.

"They're not magic, so they won't do much but float there," Anthony told Parvati. "They're still fun though. Watch this." Grabbing a balloon, Anthony untied the end and sucked down all the helium. "They make you sound like a house elf, see?"

By the time Neville and his Gran arrived, everyone was squeeking and laughing together. Neville joined in happily, greeting Susan and Hannah in a voice that sounded like Alvin the Chipmunk. Everyone else trickled in, until only Daphne was still missing.

"Daphne did say she was coming, didn't she?" Hermione asked Harry. "She'd been sick I know, but I thought she was all better now."

"I got her letter back saying she'd be here, but I don't know. Maybe she's trying to be fashionably late or something?" Harry guessed, munching on a slice of 100% pumpkin free pizza.

Blaise shook his head. "I was fashionably late. She's just late at this point. She'll miss cake if she doesn't get here soon."

Just then a knock came at the door, and Harry ran to get it. "Daphne!" Harry cheered, opening the door wide. "And Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass. Welcome! This must be your sister, Astoria, right?"

"Yes," Daphne said firmly, limping slightly as she walked into the house. "Thanks for the invitation Harry. I'm glad I could come."

"Of course! We were just wondering were you were. Let me introduce you to my sister, Becky. Oh, and Ginny's the same age as Astoria I think, you'll both be going to Hogwarts in the fall."

After pizza came party games, and Harry introduced everyone to the greatest muggle invention of all: the inflatable bounce house and water slide. "You all brought your bathing suits right? This will be no fun if you don't get at least a little wet!"

"Sorry, I'm still not quite feeling well," Daphne mumbled when Harry glanced her way. "Maybe some other time."

Shrugging, Harry ran off, peeling off his shirt and leaping into the bounce house with the boys, yelling and cheering as the water hose was turned on.

Glancing at Daphne, Hermione made a snap decision and jerked her head. Lavender and Hannah peeled off from the group. Seeing the girls leaving the party, Becky trailed along behind them. "Hey Daphne, I've got some board games up in my room. I heard you were sick earlier, would you like to try your hand at Clue? Your sister can come too, doesn't look like she brought her bathing suit either."

"I don't think-" Cedar Greengrass began, but Daphne interrupted. "That sounds lovely. Why don't you and mum stay out here and enjoy the sun dad. Astoria and I can play games inside."

The girls trooped inside, and Becky set up the game board and explained the rules, but none of the girls seemed overly enthused about the game.

"Daphne, what's wrong with your leg?" Hannah said, glancing at the leg her friend had been favoring since her arrival. "I thought you were sick, did you hurt it or something?"

"I'm fine," Daphne said, in a tone that left no one in any doubt that she was anything but. Astoria looked close to tears as well, glancing nervously at Becky.

"Don't worry, I'm only a muggle, not a monster," Becky joked. "I don't bite."

Astoria burst into tears and fled the room, running for the toilet and locking herself away. "Um, sorry, I didn't mean to offend," Becky said, looking nervously at the bathroom. "Was it something I said?"

Daphne herself looked close to tears, burying her nose in her cards. "She's just upset. A werewolf attacked some muggles near our manor. She's been having nightmares that he would come after us."

"It wasn't Fenrir Greyback, was it?" Hermione said. "I heard he was targeting kids our age."

Daphne's cards fell out of her suddenly trembling hands. "No...no it couldn't have been. Fenrir serves the Dark Lord, I mean…" Daphne buried her head in her hands and started to sob. Lavender and Hannah put comforting arms around their friend, looking trouble. "I'm sorry," Daphne cried, sniffing and wiping her nose on a tissue Becky offered her. "It's just...the attacks were so close, and I'm so afraid now…"

"Daphne?" Astoria called, coming back into the room and sniffing. "Are you OK?"

Hermione's mouth fell open. "Your face! Oh goodness, what happened to your face! It's covered in horrible red scratches!"

Astoria's face paled, and Daphne whirled around. With a cry she stumbled to her feet and hobbled over to her sister. "We're leaving, I'm sorry I'm not feeling well, we shouldn't have come it's all my-"

"You're not going anywhere," Hannah said firmly, grabbing on to Daphne and bodily hauling her back inside. Lavender grabbed Astoria, and Becky shoved the board game aside and brought out more tissues and a tin of biscuits.

"That werewolf attack…" Hermione said slowly. "You know, there was one at the Burrow, after Ron's family. That attack in the village, it wasn't a muggle who they were targeting. It was you. And it looks like Fenrir got ahold of Astoria."

"You always were too bloody smart," Daphne swore, causing her friends to gape at her. They'd never heard the usually prim and proper Slytherin use such coarse language before, even when she'd lost to Pansy in the DADA finals. She thrust out her leg, pulling back her robe. "And my bloody magic leg isn't properly working. I've been hobbling every since I got here. And Astoria's glamor failed. Everything is going wrong!"

"That would probably be our faraday cage and radium bottle," Becky said, coming over to observe the leg. "It dampens any magic in the house. Looks like it's affecting your leg and caused your sister's glamor to fail. Sorry, if we'd known we would have warned you."

"Why do you have the far whatsits and the bottle thing?" Lavender said slowly, narrowing her eyes at Becky. "Harry's a basically a muggle born. Why would you have anti magic defenses?"

"That's my brother's secret to tell you," Becky said, cutting off further debate. "Let's concentrate on the real issue here, please?"

"So you're both werewolves then?" Hannah said, studying Astoria's face. "That's rotten luck that is."

"Luck had nothing to do with it," Daphne said bitterly. "If it was Fenrir, and I suspected it was, it means my family has fallen out of favor with the Dark Lord. Or Darth Stupidus, if you want to call him that. My family was mostly neutral in the last war, but my father bribed the Death Eaters to leave us alone. They probably considered him a financial backer. The Greengrass family goes back generations, and we have quite a lot of magical farm land. We produce an awful lot of magical produce, and it's a lucrative business even with the competition from the Americas. The Dark Lord wanted us on his side. The attack must have been a warning."

"Well bugger him," Becky declared. "Sounds like it's an open declaration of war if you ask me. Time to add this Greyback fellow to our kill list. Well, if he wasn't already on it for trying to attack Ginny's family."

"Yes. And now none of you will ever want to be seen with me again, now that you know," Daphne said bitterly. "Just do me a favor: don't tell anyone about Astoria. She has a chance to have some social status as long as no one knows."

Hannah smacked Daphne upside the back of her head.

"Ow!" Daphne said, glaring at the shorter blond girl.

"Sorry, but you were being so incredibly stupid I felt like you needed a bit of a wake up call," Hannah said. "Not be seen with you any more. Maybe on the night of the full moon, and that's just because I don't have a death wish, but I'll be glad to be your friend the other 27 days of the month."

"It's a good thing we have astronomy," Hermione agreed. "We can plan things around the full moon, I've heard that werewolves get very ill then. Since your both girls we can blame it on PMS."

Lavender nodded. "Yes, we'll have to find a way to sneak you extra raw meat during the full moon too. I heard that werewolves crave it after they transform."

"I've never transformed!" Daphne half shrieked. "I was bitten only two weeks ago!"

Astoria just clung silently to her sister, staring at the other girls with wide eyes.

"Oh yes of course. I wonder how hard wolfsbane potion is to brew?" Hermione mused. "I've read that it's very difficult, but with Professor Snape's guidance I think we can manage. Oh, and we'll have to look into becoming animagi."

"Brilliant Hermione!" Hannah cheered. "Werewolves ignore wizards if they're in their animagus forms. If we all learn how, we can help Daphne and Astoria when they're transformed."

"Just don't tell any of the boys, not even my brother," Becky cautioned. "They'll think this is some sort of great adventure and in a week the whole school will know."

"Harry can keep a secret," Hermione argued. "But I agree this should be between us girls for now. Probably just the four of us."

"I'll have to tell my dad," Becky said. "With this information he'll have to take steps to keep the rest of Harry's friends safe from further attacks. Sergeant Prewett will probably have to know as well, but we'll keep it to them."

"Are you all seriously planning to actually help me while I'm transformed into a werewolf?" Daphne asked, stunned.

Lavender rolled her eyes. "Of course. What did you think we were going to do? Report you to the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures? Please. We're your friends, not a bunch of snitches."

"Professor Tonks knows as well," Astoria said quietly. "She and her mentor, Alastor Moody were the aurors who investigated and guarded us at the hospital."

Lavender shuddered. "Well at least old Mad-Eye will have something to investigate. I'm rather glad he won't be my DADA teacher. Tonks was fantastic, but he gives me the willies."

"Who is our DADA professor?" Hermione asked. "I know Tonks isn't coming back, who did they get to replace her?"

Daphne looked at her friends in amazement as the board game was set back out and the cards re-dealt. "Are you really moving on already?" Daphne demanded. "I'm a horrific monster. Surely this requires more thought than you've given it."

Hannah looked Daphne dead in the eyes. "We already knew you were a Slytherin. We've forgiven you, but try not to dwell on it. Not everyone can be in Hufflepuff, you know."

Astoria burst into tears again and flung herself at Hannah. "I hope I'm in Hufflepuff with you, it must be the best house ever!"

"Of course it is," Hannah said gently. "Don't let this bunch of lionesses fool you: the badgers have everyone beat, and don't you forget it. We would have been quidditch champions too if the matches hadn't been canceled."

Lavender blew a loud raspberry at the idea that Gryffindor would ever lose to the 'puffs, then put her arm around Daphne. "We can talk about this as much as you like, but no matter what we're still your friends."

Blinking away tears, Daphne hugged her friend back. "I wish I'd been in Gryffindor too, Lavender. You're all the best friends ever."

"No one's perfect," Lavender giggled.


	34. Chapter 33

_Chapter 33: The Best Laid Plans_

The party had ended, but not all the guests had gone home. The Weasleys, Grangers, and Longbottoms remained behind for a meeting of the Hogwarts families aware of the mundane efforts to bring the wizarding world to heel.

"Right, so, good news first," Tom began. "We now know the identify of the new Hogwarts Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and the new security officer. Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black."

"What?" Harry said, jerking to his feet. "My godfather and his friend? I don't want anything to do with either of them!"

"Calm down, Harry," Arthur Weasley said, motioning for Harry to sit. "Those are actually fairly decent choices. Lupin is a very competent wizard and not a bad teacher; he was and is in the Order of the Phoenix and is an ardent opponent of Voldemort. Sirius is a bit of a scoundrel yes, but-"

"But he's trying to take Harry away from his parents!" Molly Weasley said, glaring at her husband. "I don't care if he was innocent, or if he fought in the last war. He's trying to destroy a family based on some fantasy of his own making that Harry is James Potter reborn."

"Black was half mad when Harry and I met him," Tom put in. "From what Sergeant Prewett has told us, he's recovered a great deal since then, but is still a bit twitchy. Eleven years of day and night torture will do that to a man."

Augusta Longbottom harrumphed loudly. "It's remarkable that he has managed to recover as much as he has. Something is off about Black; Azkaban didn't affect him the way it should have. He came out worse for wear, but he did come out. Not many can claim to have survived Azkaban in such good condition for so long."

"I rather wish he hadn't come out at all," Harry said sourly. "He writes me constantly trying to convince me to go on holiday with him or come visit. I just know if I did I'd end up staying far longer than I wanted or he'd charm me or something."

"Harry, he is your magical guardian," Hermione said. "Maybe he's not your favorite person or anything, but legally he does have some rights over you. And it seems like he really does want to help you, he's just going about it in the wrong way."

"If Black really wants to make trouble for you Harry, he absolutely can," Percy put in. "The Black name is very respected, and he's fantastically wealthy. Legally he could contest the guardianship, and he'd probably win it too."

"He can try," Harry growled, patting his wand and gun.

"Professor Snape has a plan in place if something like that does happen, Harry," Alice McAllister reassured her son. "Even if it does come to a hearing, we'll make sure Black doesn't have the chance to spirit you away."

"I still can't bloody well believe that Snape is one of the good guys," Fred groused.

George nodded. "Or that we have to take those stupid occlumency lessons with him."

"At least everyone believed it when he handed you two a month's worth of detentions so you had an excuse," Percy said, folding his arms across his chest. "If I hadn't had my prefects badge taken away, no one would have believed it when he kept giving me detentions with you."

"Made it a real punishment, having you around," Fred mused. He ducked the wadded up ball of wrapping paper that Percy threw at him and stuck his tongue out at his older brother.

"How's Bill, by the way?" Tom asked. "Still resistant to the idea of our little conspiracy?"

"Bill will come round, never you worry," Arthur said. Molly nodded her agreement, and Tom accepted that for the moment.

"Right, well, let's give Harry his last present then, shall we?"

"You already gave me a Nimbus 2001," Harry said, looking confused.

"It's more of a late Christmas gift really," Alice said, pulling out a plain brown parcel from a table and passing it to Harry. "Go on, everyone needs to see this."

Harry opened the package to find a thin black cloak within it. "Um, thanks?" Harry said, glancing up at his parents in confusion.

"Put it on," his father encouraged, and Harry did so, wrapping the cloak about his shoulders.

"Merlin's beard!" Arthur gasped. "It's an invisibility cloak!"

"What?" Harry looked down and gasped. From his neck down, he had vanished. He spun about, trying to see if there was any tell tale shimmer in the air. "Oh wow, this is pretty brilliant! It's just like the One Ring. Where did you get it?"

"It was in the package Dumbledore sent you for Christmas," Tom explained. "There was a note in his handwriting claiming that it belonged to your birth father and that he'd been keeping it safe for you."

Augusta swore long and loudly, which Mrs. Weasley echoed under her breath. "If he had thought to give it to Harry before You-Know-Who killed two students and nearly killed my Neville, maybe Harry could have done a bit more!"

"I am increasingly convinced we made the right decision joining with your cause," Arthur Weasley said, shaking his head. "The Headmaster just happened to have borrowed James Potter's invisibility cloak and was holding it for Harry? That could have been rather use in any number of situations in the last war, and in helping Harry now."

"There is no use crying over spilt milk," Tom said firmly. "We have the cloak now. Harry will take it to Hogwarts, and the children can decide how best to employ it. Sergeant Prewett is aware you possess it: Snape is not. He likely will find out after your next training session however, so it may be best for you to tell him."

Taking off the cloak and passing it over to Fred and George, Harry nodded. "I trust Snape. He's a bit of a git, but he's all right. Definitely on our side."

"Brother mine, if Harrykins will let us borrow this, we may yet surpass the marauders," Fred declared.

George nodded, narrowing his eyes speculatively. "Think we should share the map? Be an even trade, don't you think?"

"What map?" Ron asked.

Fred and George exchanged a long look, then said together, "The Marauder's map."

"We nicked it from Filch when we were ickle firsties."

"Shows every secret passage in and out of Hogwarts. Even the ones the professors don't know about."

"And it has the real time location of everyone in the castle."

"It's how our pranks always had such impeccable timing."

"Though we have been a bit distracted lately."

"What with the war and finding out muggles can be pretty amazing on their own."

"But we plan to renew our spree-"

"-and take it to ever greater heights."

Molly started to swell slightly, her face flushing red. "You two had best not-"

"-spread any trouble without getting cousin Charles' permission first," Arthur finished.

Molly gaped at her husband and started to sputter, but Arthur held up a warding hand. "Molly, if the boys are spreading mischief to confuse the headmaster or keep the other children safe, they have my blessing. They're no longer just at Hogwarts to earn their OWLS. There are much more important things at stake."

After a moment's consideration, Molly deflated and nodded. "You're right. I just…I worry. If they're getting up to trouble, couldn't we be found out? Or they could be expelled, or hurt, or-"

"We'll talk to cousin Charles. We promise," Fred and George chorused.

"Don't worry mum, I'll keep an eye on the both of them for you," Percy promised. "And Ron and Ginny too."

"I can keep an eye on myself, thanks," Ginny Weasley sniffed. She was the youngest present, and feeling a bit left out of the discussion since she was just starting her own magical career.

Ron put a hand on his sister's shoulder. "Ginny, I thought I could take care of myself too. But I was attacked by a troll, Darth Stupidus, and a gang of murderous quidditch players last year. We're going to need to stick together."

"Oh, fine. But you had best not think you can boss me around just because you're older than me!"

"Harry's in charge anyway," Neville said. "Just listen to him."

Ginny flushed slightly at that, and glanced at the equally embarrassed Harry. While listening to his sister's stories about his more inglorious moments and embarrassing escapades and cured Ginny of a large amount of her hero worship, she still had a rather large crush on the original Boy-Who-Lived.

"Since when am I in charge?" Harry said. "Percy's the oldest."

"Well, you're the Club's leader," Neville said. "So you're in charge."

When Ron and Hermione voiced their agreement, Harry could only sputter. "But, we co founded the club. We all helped recruit the others and plan the meetings."

"Yes, and who's the top duelist, the one who leads all the meetings, and the one who recruited the three of us in the first place? Hermione asked. "Face it Harry, you're the one everyone looks to whenever anything goes wrong."

"Yeah, and it was you who rallied the quidditch team and rescued Hermione, Blaise, Daphne, and Hannah from Draco and his cronies on the train," Neville added.

Harry looked to Becky to drag him back down to earth, but she just shrugged at him. "You were always the one getting your mates into and out of trouble. Aaron and the others just followed your lead most of the time. You've a knack for it."

"Gee thanks." Harry glanced back down at the cloak, then up at his father. "Does it work for you?"

Tom shook his head. "No. It was thoroughly tested, first because we had no idea what it was, and then because once we did, we were not sure how to check for any traps. By the time the boffins finished with it you were back from your first year."

"Should we try and recruit any more of the Club Members?" Harry asked. "I think a couple would be ready for it with just a little more work."

"Hold off on that for now," Tom advised. "At least not while everyone is under the eye of Dumbledore. If he really can read minds when he so desires, we wouldn't want any more potential leaks. We've been extremely lucky that so far he's relied on Snape to do all that for him, but we can't guarantee that will continue to happen."

With that, the meeting broke up, with everyone but Neville, Ron, Hermione and Ginny heading home with the adults. Those that stayed would be having a slumber party and an early morning training session the next day.

"Dad, we need to talk to you," Becky whispered as the boys headed up to bed. Ginny made as if to stay behind, but Becky smiled at the younger girl. "Go on, Hermione and I will be up in a minute, we've just got to talk to my dad for a bit."

Hermione glanced at Ginny's expression, and whispered to Becky, "Astoria is going to need a friend, maybe it's best if Ginny knows."

Becky hesitated, then nodded. "Alright Ginny, you can come too if Hermione thinks it's best."

Tom led the three girls to his study, closing the door behind them. They waited for the sound of the boys to move out to the backyard, where they were pitching tents to camp out in that night.

"Alright, what's this about Rebecca?" Tom asked.

"Daphne Greengrass was bitten by Fenrir Greyback. Her sister was attacked as well."

Tom's eyebrows shot up. "Damn. You're serious?"

Ginny stared wide eyed at Hermione and Becky, her mouth hanging open.

Hermione nodded. "Somehow, the defenses your house had in place made Daphne's artificial leg act up, and dispelled the glamour on Astoria. Lavender put it back up for her, but that's why they left early. I think that confirms the theory that Greyback is out to get Harry's friends."

"Bloody hell," Tom growled. "Thank you for telling me. We'll have to find a discrete way of alerting Harry's other friends and putting a guard out for them. We've had no luck in tracking Greyback so far, but we'll keep looking. I'll talk to my superiors about putting out an alert. It would match with the muggle attack theory, and we could bill him as a serial killer on a spree."

"What are we going to do?" Ginny said, half panicked. "If they're werewolves, can we really trust them? Werewolves are dangerous!"

"Daphne is my friend," Hermione said firmly. "We're not going to squeal on her, or her sister. Astoria is going to need a friend Ginny, one who can look past her being a werewolf. Can you do that? It would be very helpful to our cause."

For a moment, Ginny hesitated. She barely knew the Greengrass family at all, only really having heard that Daphne was a Slytherin who was one of Harry's friends and a bit arrogant. But Astoria had seemed nice enough, if a little weepy. Understandable if she'd recently become a werewolf. "I'll be the best friend she ever had," Ginny vowed. "She won't have any choice but to sign up to help us overthrow the ministry."

"Viva la revolucion!" Becky cheered.

"Take it easy there," Tom urged. "Those girls are in a bad place. Be their friends first, let them joining us come with time. From my research it seems werewolves are only a problem if they don't take this wolfsbane potion or don't lock themselves up during the full moon."

He looked at Hermione for confirmation, and she nodded quickly. "Yes. Werewolves are the ones most affected by their curse. If properly treated and confined during the full moons, they're no danger. However, there's a lot of stigma surrounding werewolves and many wizards fear and hate them. For this reason many werewolves keep their condition secret and as such are more likely to spread it. Better education and treatment would probably end the curse in short order, but fear and prejudice lead to its spread."

"Well, we won't let all that get in the way of us being their friends, right Hermione?" Ginny asked.

"You girls go to Becky's room and get some rest, I've got a lot of work to do," Tom told the girls. He gave Becky a kiss on the top of her cheek, and watched as they all left.

Closing the door, Tom rubbed his hand through his hair. Patches of it came away, and he closed his eyes, feeling bone weary. He'd started chemotherapy a few weeks ago, and was rapidly losing his strength. He'd had to sit down and let Alice do most of the hosting duties during the party, and he'd been officially removed from active duty. Tom sat in the office for a few moments, trying to contain his fears. If he couldn't beat this, what would happen to Becky and Harry? What would happen to the wizarding world? He didn't know, and could only pray that things would go well. He reached for his bible, trying to find solace in a world that seemed all too close to its end.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Be safe, you hear? Don't go looking for trouble. Even if you must carry one of those awful things, don't think you have to use it."

Hermione smiled up at her mother, trying to remember that she'd never had to attend a funeral for two of her friends, or fought for her life against a train full of wizards. "Only to save myself or someone else, mum. And don't worry, I shant go looking for trouble." _It seems to find me just fine_.

Her father gave her a long hug, nearly squeezing the breath out of Hermione. "I wish there was some other way. Some other witch or wizard that could face the danger," he whispered. "But I know my little girl. She's got brains and courage, and won't back down from a fight. No matter what, know that we're proud of you, Hermione. "

"Thanks mum, dad."

The drive over to the station was full of laughter and teasing that teetered on the edge of nervousness. Ginny was very excited to be going, and was asking Hermione a thousand questions about what the Gryffindor dormitory was like.

"There's no guarantee that you'll be in Gryffindor, Ginny," Hermione told the younger girl.

Ginny looked so heartbroken at that pronouncement that Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "But you're nearly as bone-headedly brave as your brothers, so I suppose you'll end up with the rest of us in the cannon fodder brigade."

"I think I'd want to be in Hufflepuff," Becky observed. "They seem like a rather friendly lot, and hard work and loyalty are very admirable traits."

"I suppose that wouldn't be so bad," Ginny admitted. "But what if I ended up in Slytherin? I think I'd kill myself."

Hermione shook her head. "Daphne is in Slytherin, and she's a wonderful person. That sort of bias is what has gotten us into so much trouble. We need to be more welcoming of those in other houses you know."

"I suppose," Ginny admitted. "I did say I'd be friends with Astoria, and she'll probably be in Slytherin."

"How can you know that? You've only met her the one time!" Hermione pointed out.

It was Ginny's turn to roll her eyes. "Because her sister is in Slytherin, duh. Families always end up together."

"What about Parvati and Padma?" Becky asked. "Aren't they twins too?"

Ginny deflated slightly. "Oh. I guess so. Oh Merlin, what if I end up in Ravenclaw or Slytherin? It would be awful being alone…."

"Then Padma or Daphne would make sure you're taken care of," Hermione lectured. "Honestly, being in a different house doesn't make someone evil or something. It just means they're different."

"I dunno. Slytherin seems really stereotypically evil," Becky mused.

Ginny raised her hands in the air. "See? See? Even Becky gets it, and she's not even coming with us!"

"It's just, a snake totem? And ambition as your trait? Really, it's like their founder was a Saturday morning cartoon villain. There's even that whole Chamber of Secrets thing where Slytherin's monster is supposed to lie, waiting for the heir to return and drive out all those without pure blood. Seems a bit sketchy, doesn't it?"

"It is our choices, not our house, that determines our morality," Hermione said firmly.

Grunting, Becky leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. "Can't argue with that kind of logic. One would think you should have been in Ravenclaw."

Ginny covered her mouth and giggle, but Hermione just sniffed and stuck her nose in the air. "I would have been quite happy in Ravenclaw, thank you very much."

The van stopped at the train station, and Hermione piled out with the others, grabbing her trunk. She recognized several of the "loiterers" who were scattered around the station, but didn't look at any of them overly long or wave. Instead Hermione made straight for the barrier with her friends, passing through easily onto the other side.

The station this time had a bit of its original, lively air about it. Many new students were eagerly gazing around, and Hermione smiled, recalling her own first time on the platform. Had it really only been a year ago? Her life was so different now, full of secrets, magic, and intense physical exercise. Previously Hermione had been rather sedentary, preferring to stay inside and read or study instead of doing sports or exercising. Now Hermione ran 5k every day, did sets of push ups, sit ups, jumping stars, and a few martial arts katas. She even wasn't rubbish at physical combat anymore, though if she had her way she'd use her wand for any trouble she did get into. With a wand, one had to think their way out instead of just hitting things.

"Hermione!" Lavender called, waving from beside her parents. Hermione came over and introduced herself, then went off with Lavender to find some of the other girls from the Defense Club. "Seen Daphne yet?" Lavender asked.

Hermione shook her head, looking around the platform. "No, but there's Susan, let's say hello."

Before long, the whistle sounded, and Hermione dashed back to her parents for one final goodbye. "I love you both!" Hermione called, grabbing her trunk and climbing aboard the train.

Finding Daphne and Astoria, Hermione rounded up Hannah, Ginny, and Lavender and took a compartment alone.

"I apologize, but I let Ginny in on everything," Hermione confessed. "I figured that since Daphne has the three of us, Astoria would want someone in her own year to confide in."

"A Weasley?" Astoria asked, eyeing Ginny. "Aren't you all in Gryffindor?"

Raising one eyebrow, Ginny deadpanned, "A Greengrass? Aren't you all in Slytherin?"

Astoria looked down and shrugged. "I don't know. I thought I wanted to be in Slytherin, but now I'm not so sure. I wanted to find friends that were rich and powerful so I could become like my mother; the center of her own social circle with the husband I chose. But now...now I'm hideous. No Slytherins would want to be my friend, I couldn't get them anything."

"You're not hideous," Ginny said firmly. "Besides, my mum says that a girl has to grow into her looks, and that I'm much too young to be worry about that sort of thing anyway."

"You don't understand!" Astoria hissed, pointing to her face. "This isn't what I look like! This is a glamor! I have horrible scars all over my face, and well, I'm...you know."

"What, a werewolf?" Ginny said. "Who cares? You're rich, just buy some wolfsbane and have a lie in on the full moon. Big deal." Ginny tried to sound convincing, but she came off as a bit unsure.

"Ginny's right, Astoria," Daphne said. "We don't have to worry about the wolfsbane, and Professor Dumbledore says that Hogwarts has had werewolf students in the past, and they weren't even discovered. We'll be just fine."

"Hmph." Astoria sat back in her chair and sulked, until Ginny got out _Wanderings with Werewolves_. "What are you doing?"

"I'm reading up on werewolves, obviously. I figured Lockhart was a good place to start."

Several of the other girls all made noises of agreement, save for Daphne. "I don't know. Fighting Greyback wasn't anything like what happened in the book. It was much nastier and brutal. I don't see how anyone could wrestle a werewolf."

"That's because you're not Gilderoy Lockhart!" Astoria exclaimed. She sighed dreamily. "I wish I could be his wife. I know he's too old, but he's just so handsome and powerful! Think of what a match that would be!"

"I hope he's our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor!" Lavender gushed. "He'd be so much better than that awful Mad-Eye, and there were rumors he was in talks with Dumbledore."

"It's not him," Hermione said.

Ginny nodded, making a face. "Yeah, it's some guy named Remus Lupin. My dad say's he'll make a good teacher, but not like Lockhart. How many world famous monster slayers are there?"

"Well, there was Van Helsing in the 19th Century," Hermione offered. "He was a famous vampire hunter. Even norms know about him, though not all the details."

"Yes, but Van Helsing was UGLY," Hannah said. "Lockhart's gorgeous."

Noticing that Astoria was eyeing her book hungrily, Ginny offered it to the other girl. "Would you like to borrow it? I've read it half a dozen times already, and I've got a couple of the others in my trunk."

"Yes please," Astoria said eagerly, taking the book. "I do hope that it has some tips for being a werewolf. I don't remember any from the first three times I've read it, but you never know."

"Well at least now we can have something to talk about since we're friends," Ginny said, pulling Break with a Banshee out of her trunk. She glanced at the others. "I've got a new copy of Magical Me too, anyone want to borrow that?"

"Me!" Hannah said eagerly.

"Can I have it when she's done with it?" Lavender asked.

Hermione pulled a copy from out of her robes. "Here, you can borrow mine, I got it signed in Diagon Alley."

"Wicked!"

"What about you Daphne?" Ginny asked.

Sighing and giving into temptation, Daphne asked, "Do you have Voyages with Vampires? That's my favorite."

As the compartment settled into a pleasant silence, Astoria giggled and whispered to Ginny, "If I didn't know better, I'd say they're all in Ravenclaw."

"Maybe we'll be in that together," Ginny whispered back. "It wouldn't be so bad if I was with a friend."


	35. Chapter 34

_This document beta'd by the knowledgeable Mary Helen_

 _Chapter 34: Snivellus and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Term_

The train ride for Harry was uneventful, filled with a marathon session of Risk in which Ron ended up absolutely dominating Harry, Neville, Blaise and Anthony in a single turn by turning in a set of cards to gain a massive number of troops, then conquering the weakest players first to gain additional cards to turn in for an ever growing number of troops.

"That wasn't even fair," Anthony groused. "I'd finally taken over Australia and was building up my troops nicely. I would have had you if you'd just left me alone for a bit."

"Ah well, you win some you lose some," Harry said. He'd thought victory was within his grasp, having conquered Africa and South America and looking to smash Blaise in North America while Ron and Neville squabbled over Eurasia. The sudden whirlwind of violence from Ron had rapidly steamrolled through his back door though.

"Clever tactic there, Ron," Blaise mused. "You were just saving up your cards, waiting, weren't you?"

"It's all in the cards mate," Ron declared, scooping up the last of the plastic soldiers into their cases. "Once I got Neville's it was all over for you lot. I just saved Anthony for last, since he'd have been the least dangerous to take on alone."

"I still say the Australian turtle is the best strategy," Anthony muttered.

Neville shrugged, glancing out the window. "Looks like we're almost there though. Good thing all those teachers were on patrol in the halls. I think the quidditch teams are holding a bit of a grudge against us."

"I'm on the Gryffindor Quidditch team and I don't hold a grudge," Harry pointed out.

Ron shrugged. "I think you'd best not count on that mate. Oliver was nursing quite the grudge the last I heard. He might not even let Fred and George back on."

"Please. As long as I'm still the best Seeker in Gryffindor, Oliver will let me on the team without more than bit of grumbling. He's too competitive to let a grudge get in the way of winning the cup."

The boys all changed into their robes, and Harry felt good to once again be wearing his school uniform.

"I wonder if they'll let us have the club again," Anthony mused aloud, glancing at his Ravenclaw tie and badge. "Some people were complaining that we always sat together, and I don't know if the new DADA professor will be up for that."

"Remus Lupin seemed like a decent sort when I met him. Oh, yeah, you two didn't know, he's the new DADA Professor. I think Dumbledore is trying to use him to get me to accept Sirius Black as my magical guardian. Might be a bit awkward."

"We can make it work," Neville said. "If nothing else, we can always ask a new professor. Or just meet informally."

"I'm not giving it up, no matter what," Blaise vowed. "I've invested too much into this. My family has basically told the rest of Slytherin to go hang and declared itself allied with the Weasley's and basically a muggleborn. No one in Slytherin will ever take me seriously again."

"Daphne does," Anthony pointed out.

Blaise rolled her eyes. "And, shocker, she's in the same boat as me. Oh well. At least I have a prospective girlfriend who's sufficiently attractive and wealthy without a great deal of scruples."

"Mate, it is way too soon to be thinking about that," Ron said as they got off the train and headed for the carriages.

"Ron, I'm a Slytherin. Some of us actually make plans for our future, and plan for our futures to not involve a hoard of red headed children and poverty."

"Oi!" Ron narrowed his eyes. "Are you ragging on my family? Because if you are, we'll have to have words."

"Depends. Would you trade with me? Because honestly, having the same father my whole childhood and not wondering when the next one is going to end up having an 'accident' or if my mother is finally going to be killed or arrested sounds pretty good on those sleepless nights when I'm trying to figure out if my housemates are going to try to murder me again. Trust me, there are far worse things to be burdened with than a large family and little money."

"My life isn't always so fantastic you know," Ron muttered. "Though I see your point."

"Yeah, well, sorry," Blaise said. "My latest step father just had a 'heart attack.' Seems he was going to go to the aurors with evidence against mum. I apologize, I spoke in haste." Blaise offered his hand to Ron, who took it and shook his head.

"Bloody hell man, your life is like one of those daytime programs on the wireless my mum listens to."

"Welcome to Slytherin House. Leave your scruples at the door, and here's your dagger. Better get to stabbing those backs."

"Wow, you sound really bitter about the whole thing," Antony observed. "Maybe ask for a transfer? Ever since Terry dropped out of the Club Michael and I have been a bit lonely in our dorm."

"Of course not. I'd get bored without all the scheming. After all, I'm the heir to a criminal empire. Got to practice somewhere, right?"

Harry shook his head. When had his life become so complicated? Probably about the time he'd gotten that letter last year.

For once, the Defense Club members split up and sat at their house tables. Harry figured that at least for the Sorting Ceremony they should honor tradition, and had passed the word along. He sat with the rest of the Gryffindor's in his year, but leaned over to whisper into Wood's ear. "I'm still the best seeker in our house, you know. And I've got a Nimbus 2001 now. I'll let you borrow my 2000 if you let me back on the team."

Oliver didn't even hesitate. "Give the broom to Alicia, she's on a Comet 260 and I've got a Cleansweep 9. But you get quidditch canceled again McAllister and they'll never find your body."

"Cross my heart and hope to die, this is the year we win the cup, Oliver," Harry swore.

Oliver just grunted and nodded. "Show up to tryouts at least. I don't want to be accused of favoritism so I can't make it too blatant."

"Oliver, you'd play a Slytherin if you thought they were best for the position and you could get away with it."

"Well, yes," Oliver admitted. "But I would at least make them wear Gryffindor colors."

The doors of the Great Hall boomed open, and silence fell as the first years trooped in. Harry waved to Ginny and Astoria, who were walking in side by side. Ginny waved back, but Astoria looked as though she was going to be sick.

"What's been eating her and Daphne?" Harry asked Hermione. "They've both been acting odd."

"Just a bit of girl problems, Harry," Hermione said.

"Gotcha." Having an older sister, he was very familiar with the concept of female illness, and like most males in general wanted as little to do with it as humanly possible.

The sorting hat was brought out with great ceremony, and placed on a stool. After a moment, it yawned, stretched, and burst into song.

 _A thinking cap is what I am_

 _But sortings what I do!_

 _I take a look inside your mind_

 _And Find a place for you_

 _To Gryffindor I send the brave_

 _Those who hear adventures song_

 _To Hufflepuff I send along_

 _The loyalest and the diligent_

 _For Ravenclaw I always find_

 _Those with minds aglow_

 _And Slytherin I ferret out_

 _The cunning and the ambitious_

 _But do not for a moment think_

 _My wish is to divide_

 _Instead I find those that hone_

 _Your talents to their fullest_

 _For what is bravery without brains?_

 _Or ambition without loyalty?_

 _And to find adventure you must work_

 _Or find it ends in failure_

 _And if you study without cunning_

 _Your notes a mess will be!_

 _So gather round this sorting hat_

 _And join with one another_

 _For though different houses you be_

 _You all need each other_

There was scattered applause, though Harry stood and whistled loudly, followed quickly by the members of the dueling club. After a few seconds, Harry sat back down and McGonagall brought out her long list of students.

For each student sorted, Harry made sure to give them polite applause, even if they went to another house. He clapped the loudest for those that ended up in Gryffindor of course, but he wanted to make sure every new student felt welcome. After all, each of them was a potential recruit.

"Are you Harry?" a new student said, popping down between Harry and Neville. "I'm Colin Creevy! Isn't being a wizard fantastic? Can I take your photo? I want to send one to my mum!"

"Er, maybe later Colin," Harry said. "After the feast I'd love to talk. Watch the sorting now, and don't forget to clap."

"Brilliant!"

And so it went. Astoria Greengrass ended up in Slytherin, and to Harry's surprise she seemed rather disappointed for a moment, then recover and walked to sit regally by her sister.

When Ginny's turn came at the end, a hush fell over the Gryffindor table. Ginny was somewhat famous herself, being the first female to bear the Weasley name in seven generations.

The hat was placed on Ginny's head, and Harry saw Ron and his brothers holding their breath. After what seemed like an eternity, but was actually about 30 seconds, the hat loudly declared, "Gryffindor!" The whole table burst into mad applause and cheers, and Ginny grinned and flounced over to sit with Percy, who pushed over a seventh year to make room for his sister.

"Good to see the whole family together then," Percy said, rubbing Ginny's hair affectionately.

"Lay off Perse, we all knew where I belonged," Ginny declared. "Now where's the food, I'm starving!"

"Yep, she's a Weasley alright," Angelina laughed. "A walking bottomless pit!"

"Shhh, the Headmaster has to give his speech," Percy hushed.

Dumbledore stood and walked to the lectern, and the crowd hushed. Harry heard several mutters about quidditch, and realized that the headmaster could very well retain the ban. He found himself holding his breath as well, crossing his fingers and praying that the headmaster would relent.

"I welcome you all, one and all, to a new year here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. First things first, the most vital point of order: on a trial basis, pending good behavior, the Quidditch House Cup will resume in October."

Harry joined in the jubilation, hugging Oliver and shouting his approval. Fred and George some how managed to set off fireworks from each table that soared around the room, all whistling, "We'll be good, promise gov!" In a thick Cockney accent. Harry noticed that Sirius Black sat up when he saw the fireworks, and was eyeing the Gryffindor table with an appraising air. Harry wondered if he was out to find the trouble makers and punish them; he certainly had a dark, brooding attitude still. Remus Lupin, upon seeing Black's reaction, had groaned and put his head in his hands. Snape's lips had become so thin they nearly vanished, and he stared daggers at Fred and George, who noticed and promptly blew raspberries the potions master's direction.

Instead of leaping to punish the miscreant brothers, Black guffawed and clapped his hands, giving the twins two thumbs up and a wide grin.

"What's that all about?" Harry asked Hermione, nodding in Black's direction.

Hermione's brow creased and she shrugged. "I don't know. You'd think he'd be a bit sterner, being the security officer and all."

Finally, the mayhem died down and the Headmaster smiled. "Now that that's out of the way, I am pleased to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor as well as our new Security Officer, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black."

No sooner than the words had left Dumbledore's mouth, the lights went out. Just as everyone was starting to panic, a silver dog barreled out from the Gryffindor table, followed by a giant wolf, and a silvery stag. A small black rat streaked out as well, but was promptly trampled by the stag, clawed by the wolf, and then eaten by the dog. The stag hovered over Harry for a moment, and Harry felt as if he should know the beast for some reason. Then it reared, and together dog, stag and wolf raced out through the closed doors of the great hall, leaving behind silvery glowing words, "Marauders Part VIII: We're back, Bitches." Then the lights came on, the words dissolving in the candle light.

Harry and the others students stared wide eyed at the head table, trying to piece together what had just happened. Dumbledore seemed to suffer a sudden coughing fit, his eyes twinkling madly. Without ceremony, McGonagall reached under the table, pulled out a giant bottle of firewhiskey, and took a long swig. She handed the bottle to Snape, who after a moment took a long pull of his own, then passed it to Flitwick. This ceremony repeated itself for all the returning professors, save for Hagrid, who had developed a case of hiccups after a brief fit of raucous laughter.

Sirius Black was grinning hugely at Remus Lupin, and holding his right hand high in the air. Lupin had his head in his hands, but after a moment, reached up and high fived Sirius, then groaned and slumped back down as Sirius did the "I'm watching you" gesture at Fred and George, who nodded solemnly. Fred licked his finger, then made a tally mark on an invisible chalk board and pointed to Black, as if indicating he had just scored a point.

"What just happened?" Harry said loud, blinking in confusion.

"The Marauders are back," Fred observed.

"Looks like we've got competition," George agreed.

"Time for a prank war."

"Who are the Marauders?" Neville asked, but got no reply but evil grins from the twins.

Dumbledore's coughing fit was finally brought under control, and he cleared his throat. "I look forward to a most stimulating year with our newest staff members."

"Careful what you wish for," Snape snarled, his voice carrying surprisingly far in the stunned silence.

Black made little finger wands, and made little banging noises as he fired away at Snape as the headmaster continued speaking. "In light of last years difficulties, I am also announcing our new anti-bullying policy. Anyone caught using their wands in a malicious manner on another student will be subject to immediate discipline. A first violation will result in the loss of the wand for three days, including during class time. The second in the loss of the wand for two weeks, and the third expulsion. This does not include duels approved and monitored by staff members, including the activities of our prestigious Defence Club, which Professor Lupin will be hosting this year. Those interested in joining should inquire with Professor Lupin, or with students Neville Longbottom or Harry McAlister."

"Huh. That answers that question," Harry muttered.

Neville nodded, but said, "And raises about half a dozen more."

"With that business out of the way, I will speak the most important words of the evening: Wozzle, fluntnip, aberdone."

Food appeared on the table, and other thoughts fled as Harry dug into the meal. As much as he hated to admit it, he had sort of missed the pumpkin flavoring, as he'd had nothing with pumpkin in it since the end of last term.

"The flavor sort of grows on you, you know?" Harry observed to Ron as he took a large bite of pumpkin bread.

Ron nodded eagerly. "Me, I'm just glad we don't have to eat any more ORPs for a few months."

"Shhh!" Harry hissed glancing around. Ron flushed, but didn't apologize, instead focusing on eating more than Ginny was, which was looking to be rather a near thing at the moment.

Once the feast was over, Harry noticed Percy lingering at the table, looking slightly forlorn as the Gryffindor Prefects rounded up the new first years.

"Missing your badge?" Harry asked quietly.

Percy looked up, frowned at Harry, and glanced at the other prefects. Like the other houses, Gryffindor was one short, the prefects who had had their badges taken away remaining as a reminder of sins past. "I bit, I suppose," Percy admitted. "But not enough to really regret coming to your aide. I knew I could get in trouble for it, and maybe I should have been trying to calm things down. But hang it all, my brothers were in danger, and so were you and your friends. I couldn't just bluster my way in, waving my badge. I had to take action."

"And that pretty much summarizes why we're conspiring against basically every authority figure in Magical Britain," Harry whispered.

Percy winked back. "You know us Weasley's. We're troublemakers."

Trooping back up to the dorms felt an awful lot like going home, Harry mused. He was glad to see they'd be back in the same rooms, and made straight for his usual bed, where his trunk was already placed. Ron and Neville began putting up the Westham poster, along with pictures of Dean and Seamus where their beds would have been. Harry silently placed a four leaf clover he'd found on an end table and moved it over beneath the poster, along with a photo of the four first year boys, taken shortly before the Christmas Holidays.

"It's been months, but I still feel like they should be here, with us," Neville said quietly.

Ron nodded solemnly. "It's because they should. They were murdered, before their time. I'll never forget either of them."

"It helped, talking about them with the therapists. But it doesn't change what we have to do," Harry vowed.

Drawing out their wands, the three saluted the shrine, then retired to their beds.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\

The first day of classes went by quickly. Teachers didn't waste any time, diving right into what the major points of the first semester would be, and assigning homework to be completed by the weekend.

In potions class, Harry sighed and placed the cherry bomb in Malfoy's cauldron when he wasn't looking. It just wasn't as much fun when the professor had given you the tools and ordered you to do the prank. He saw Hermione slipping one into Pansy's cauldron, shrugging at Daphne when she noticed and gave Hermione a horrified look. Ron sabotaged Crabbe and Goyle's potion, and Neville just tripped and knocked over Lavender and Parvati's brew, dousing the room in foul smelling liquid. Before Snape could even begin to harangue him, the cherry bombs went off, destroying three cauldrons and giving everyone a thick coat of smelly, half finished fungus removal potions.

"Detention," Snape growled. "All four of you. Every Saturday for the next ten weeks."

"You can't even prove it was us!" Harry protested, offended that Snape wouldn't even put forth the effort of an investigation.

"Well, was it you, Longbottom, Granger and Weasley that sabotaged the Slytherin potions or not?" Snape demanded.

"Yes, yes it was," Hermione said, wiping potion off her face and grimacing.

"Then obviously you deserve the detentions. Ten points off for your cheek as well, McAllister, and five points from each of you for the disaster."

"Fantastic, everyone's just going to love us now," Harry grumped as they made their way out of the dungeons to the greenhouse.

"We were going to get the detentions anyway Harry, you needn't have complained," Hermione lectured.

As they rounded the corner, Sirius Black came dashing up, skidding to a halt on the tiled floor in front of them. "I heard there was an explosion in the potions lab," he panted, glaring at the four students. "What happened?"

Harry winced, certain he was about to lose even more points from the new security officer. "We um, we put cherry bombs in the Slytherin cauldrons."

"Really?" Sirius' eyes flashed. "And why did you do that in Snape's class?"

"Because we have a rivalry with Slytherin," Neville said smoothly. "They attacked us on the train last year."

"Also, Snape is a git," Ron added with verve.

Sighing, Hermione nodded. "It seemed only the proper thing to do."

"Excellent, excellent!" Black said, rubbing his hands together eagerly. "Old Snivellus won't stand a chance this year. Er, I guess that's professor Snape to you. Did he take points?"

"Yeah, he took 30, why?" Harry said, confused by the man's behavior until he recalled the events of the night before. Maybe Black was just deranged still.

"Oh, no reason. Say, you were all walking very safely in the halls. I think that should be ten points each to Gryffindor!"

A group of Ravenclaw first years were walking by, escorted by a prefect. "Can we have some points too?" one of the first years said hopefully. "We were walking safely."

"Oh, um, yeah, one point to Ravenclaw," Black muttered, then ran off, muttering about having to "outdo his godson."

"Oh bloody hell," the prefectt moaned. "It's going to be like the Year of the Badger all over again!"

"Wasn't that last year when Hufflepuff ended up with 9283 points because of blatant favoritism?" a first year asked.

The prefect nodded, their expression grim. "Yes. Yes it was."

"Personally, I think house points are rubbish," Harry said, earning glares from the eagles, save for one dreamy looking blonde girl who nodded.

"Yes, they're designed to attract Blibbering Humdingers to feed off our competitive spirits so they can be harvested for Fudge's army of heliopaths."

The other Ravenclaws groaned and rolled their eyes, and the prefect lead the first years off, the little blonde girl training behind. She turned and waved to the four perplexed Gryffindors, who automatically waved back.

"What was that nonsense about?" Ron wondered. "What's a blibbering humdinger? Or a heliopath?"

Shrugging, Neville turned and started off to the greenhouse again. "It sounds like something out of _The Quibbler_. Don't tell anyone, but my Gran secretly reads every copy. I don't think she believes any of it, but she adores the conspiracy theories."

"What's a quibbler?" Harry asked.

"Think _The Sun_ , but add in a lot more conspiracy theories and remove most celebrity bits," Hermione said.

Thinking on that for a moment, Harry shuddered. "Wow. Do they ever report on anything that's real?"

After Herbology came Defense Against the Dark Arts. Harry had mixed feelings about the class. On one hand, there was no way that Lupin could actually be worse than Voldemort himself trying to kill everyone. On the other, Tonks had done a bang up job, and would be near impossible to top. Harry was also expecting Dumbledore to use Lupin to help pressure him in staying with Black willingly at some point, and wasn't looking forward to spending a lot of time with the man.

"Welcome to your second year of Defense Against the Dark Arts," Lupin said once the Gryffindors and Slytherins had been seated. "While I know your first semester last term was a bit rocky," there was scattered nervous giggles at the massive understatement, "I worked closely with Professor Tonks over the summer and have a good idea of where you are at. You have a solid grounding in jinxes and hexes, and how to counter them. This year, we're going to start on how to defend yourself not just against minor curses, but against many of the dark creatures that inhabit this world."

Harry noticed Daphne's face fall when this was said, and that Lavender put a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder. He recalled that someone had mentioned a werewolf attack near her home, and shuddered, recalling the near thing with the Weasley family over the summer as well.

"This year we will cover the most common creatures found in Magical Britain, and how to defend yourself against them."

"Curse them to bits," Malfoy muttered, and got giggles from Crabbe and Goyle.

"Next time, please raise your hand Mr. Malfoy," Lupin said smoothly. "But yes, in many situations, attacking the magical creature directly would work. In fact, I'm going to recommend such an approach with the subject of today's lesson. Observe."

From behind his desk, Lupin pulled out several small cages that rattled and shook silently. Inside were small, blue skinned winged creatures who made faces and rude gestures at the class, though no noise escaped the cages.

"Pixies?" Blaise said, frowning. "Those aren't very dangerous."

"Of course not!" Lupin said, chuckling. "You're only in your second year. I wouldn't expect you to go up against a boggart, let alone a banshee or something equally deadly. No, a pixie is more of a nuisance than anything else. What can you tell me about them? Yes, Mrs. Granger."

"Pixies are small members of the fae family. They are notorious thieves, collecting bright shiny objects like magpies, but also those with magical properties as they feed off the ambient magic within the items. They are known to abduct witches and wizards to feed of their magical energy as well, including children. This is where the changeling myth comes from. They are not usually dangerous to adults except in large numbers."

"Brilliant! Five points to Gryffindor. Indeed, you are correct. Now, let me explain how to deal the the pixie. As Mr. Malfoy pointed out, several basic charms and hexes can be used against the pixie to drive it off. A basic stinging hex or knockback jinx would do nicely. However, if the pixie has stolen something of yours, this complicates matters, as you don't want to merely drive it off. How could you handle it then? Yes, Miss Patil?"

"Impedimenta?" Parvati asked. "So you could slow it down and catch it and get back whatever it had."

"Good! Yes, that would work well, two points to Gryffindor. Any other ideas? Mr. Zabini."

"Ductio, the tracking charm. You could find the pixies lair. Then you could not only get back your item, but any other items the pixie had stolen. I'd probably also want to bring along a friend, and maybe a potion of bottled dreams to knock the pixies out in their lair so I wouldn't be in danger myself."

"Ah! A cunning plan, very befitting of your house. Eight points to Slytherin. Yes Miss Bulstrode?"

"What about the spell Gilderoy Lockhart mentioned in his latest interview in Witch Weekly, Peskipiksi Pesternomi?"

Lupin frowned. "Yes, well, I'm afraid as in many things, Mr. Lockhart is mistaken in this case. That is not a real spell. In fact, it appears to simply be gibberish that Mr. Lockhart made up on the spot during his interview."

"But Mr. Lockhart is a world renowned expert on dark creatures!" Lavender protested.

Gritting his teeth, Lupin growled, "We will discuss Mr. Lockhart and his methods at a later date. My Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff class in your year earlier was also enamoured of him, as was the Gryffindor/Slytherin third year class. I will be...delighted...to go over the many glaring inaccuracies in his texts as well as the many flaws in the timeline of his supposed victories with you, as they are excellent examples of how to get yourself killed. Wrestling a werewolf. The very idea. The homorphus charm doesn't even work that way."

Seeing that Lupin was getting increasingly irritated on the subject, the students wisely did not mention Lockhart again. To Harry's surprise, he actually rather enjoyed the rest of the period. Lupin had them come up in groups of two or there and would release a cage of pixies with a nearby magical item, and an open window on the other side of the room. The students would have to either prevent the pixies from getting the magical item in the first place, or prevent them from successfully absconding with the item. Only Crabb and Goyle managed to fail, and only because they detonated their pixies and destroyed them along with the item they were supposed to retrieve.

"Not bad, not bad at all. For homework, I want an essay on what magical creatures you could expect to encounter in your own home, essay due next week. No length requirement, I only require that you go into sufficient detail that I can know the geography and location of your home and what magical creatures would frequent it. Your textbook will be most enlightening in that regard. Oh, and Miss Granger, I start to lose interest in any essay over 20 inches, so keep it to that, alright? Dismissed."

Harry left feeling pleasantly surprised: his first day of DADA lessons hadn't been half bad at all. Maybe this year would be OK after all, provided he could dodge the machinations of Black and Dumbledore.


	36. Chapter 35

_This document beta'd by the knowledgeable Mary Helen_

 _Chapter 35: McGonagall Strikes Back_

The new DADA classroom was a far more brooding place than it had been under Tonks tenure, Daphne noted. It had been moved back to the classroom that Moody had used, and included a variety of skeletons of magical creatures, jars of liquid with preserved...things…. Tonks room had been filled with light, and very open to allow for the practical demonstrations she had favored. Lupin's room was full of shadows, a suitable place for dark things to live and lurk. Like her. She glanced at Astoria, who was gazing around the room with a worried expression on her face, and wondered just why Professor Lupin had called them both to his office.

"And how do you take your tea, young ladies?" Lupin asked.

"Two sugars and milk, please," Astoria said, trying to maintain the perfect manners and poise that their mother and imparted since they were able to walk.

"One sugar for me, please," Daphne requested.

Lupin prepared the tea expertly, then passed two sturdy pewter cups over to the students. Daphne noted that he took his black, with a dash of lemon. "Thank you for joining me. I know you can't be feeling well, what with the full moon in only a week."

Daphne froze, and Astoria's teacup rattled in her saucer. "What…" Daphne swallowed, then carefully picked up her tea cup and took a sip. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Girls, you have to have noticed the scars on my face," Lupin said gently. He touched his right shoulder. "There are more, here. And along my back. I've noticed you walk with a limp, Daphne. It's very slight, your prosthetic is expertly made and enchanted. As for you Astoria, your glamors are very good, but I can smell the scars on your face; they still have not fully healed."

Astoria looked at Daphne, her eyes wide with fear. Swallowing hard, Daphne nervously gulped her tea as she scrambled for a response. Lupin spoke again before she could devise one.

"Daphne, Astoria, I too am a werewolf. The headmaster informed me you would require assistance with your first transformation. I take it you haven't had the wolfsbane this cycle?"

Shocked, Daphne could only shake her head. Lupin breathed a sigh of relief. "That's for the best. The first transformation is by far the most violent and painful, and if you take wolfsbane there are risks for the first lunar cycle. After this month you should be alright, but I'm glad you didn't get dosed with it right away. I myself have elected to forgo it this one time, as werewolves who are under the influence of wolfsbane potion are immediately attacked by those who are not. They can sense something wrong."

"But you're a professor," Astoria blurted. "How can you be a werewolf?"

"Secretly," Lupin said, then took a long swallow of tea. "Technically, I am registered, but those records were lost in the war, and no one ever required that I go back and do so again, so I have not. I imagine your father has bribed the right people so that your records were never properly filed, and bought the secrecy of anyone who does know. Nymphadora told me Cedar tried to bribe her, at any rate. She refused, not because she wants to tell anyone, but because she was frankly insulted he insulted she would ever betray the trust of her former students."

"Professor Tonks is a wonderful woman," Daphne said, her voice quavering. "I am rather fond of her."

Lupin gave Daphne a warm smile. "Indeed. I am rather fond of her myself."

Finding her courage, Daphne set her cup down with only a faint rattle in the saucer. "So, what exactly are we to do? Professor Dumbledore said he had a plan, but he never shared it with myself or my parents."

"I am to be your escort on the night of the full moon, along with a certain furry friend of mine whose identity shall remain anonymous for now. After classes, I will escort you both to the whomping willow. There is a secret passage under the tree, which leads to where I myself experienced my transformations when I was a student: The Shrieking Shack."

"But that's haunted!" Astoria gasped. "There are murderous ghosts, ghouls, all sorts of things!"

Grinning wryly, Lupin shook his head."Actually, there was only ever one werewolf and his somewhat wild companions."

"You were bitten while you were at Hogwarts too?" Daphne asked.

"No. I was attacked by Fenrir Greyback when I was four. I barely survived."

"That son of a bitch," Daphne swore. Astoria squeaked in shock and alarm. "Oh, I know, it isn't very lady like of me, but he is, and you know it. Fenrir bit us as well. He tried to bite the Weasley's too, but was turned away by their defenses according to Ginny Weasley."

Lupin suddenly stood, his eyes gleaming with rage. "Greyback is on the hunt? Again? Are you certain?"

"Well, not entirely," Daphne admitted. "But I think my father believes that he was sent by Darth Stupidus to-"

"Pardon?" Lupin said.

"Oh, um, The Dark Lord. You-Know-Who. Darth Stupidus is a name Harry came up with for him."

"I'll be damned. Sirius was right. He is James reborn," Lupin muttered. Then he shook his head. "Go on."

"As I was saying, I think my father believes Fenrir was sent by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to punish my family for allying with the Weasleys and Harry. I think he meant to kill one of us and infect the other, but my parents arrived just in time to save my life after Astoria helped us escape temporarily with accidental magic."

"I am sorry, we will have to continue this later. Fenrir on the hunt again is dire news. I must inform the headmaster immediately. The school is not safe."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"I am aware, Remus," Dumbledore told his irate DADA instructor. Beside him stood a suddenly serious, oh that was a good pun, he'd have to incorporate it into his discussion somehow, Black looking grim as the day he'd been freed from Azkaban.

"Why were the staff not notified? Does the DMLE know?" Black demanded.

"You're being awfully Sirius about this," Dumbledore quipped. Black's lips twitched, but Lupin growled. "Relax my boy. I will be on patrol personally on the night of the full moon. I told Barty personally of the situation, and he assured me that he would handle it."

"He's not DMLE though," Black protested. "Not anymore."

"He is the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and a known defender of the light. If Barty says that he will ensure no further attacks are perpetrated on the innocent, I believe him. I trust he will work with Amelia Bones on the matter."

"I'm owling Nymphadora about this," Remus vowed.

Black nodded. "I could use an extra hand or two, I was planning on being otherwise occupied that night."

"Yes, I think it's best you still go through with those plans. If we were to be found by Greyback while he was transformed, he could harness us to do some real damage. He's an alpha, after all."

"An alpha? What's that mean?" Black asked.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. He'd never heard of an alpha werewolf. "Yes my boy, do tell."

"Werewolves are pack animals," Lupin explained. "An alpha werewolf is one that leads a pack, like Greyback does. Moony, that is, my own wolf, is decidedly not an alpha. If Greyback were to show up transformed, he could lead us back to Hogwarts or into Hogsmeade and really cause some damage. Four werewolves, even if two of them are young girls, are very dangerous."

"How could he break you out of the shrieking shack?" Dumbledore asked. "Can he control his transformations?"

"No, and thank Merlin for that. However, Greyback is cunning. He could devise a way to damage the shack or remove its defenses, or perhaps just break through them. His wolf is exceptionally large and brutal and alphas are even more spell resistant than normal. Myself and the girls if not on wolfsbane would then gladly accompany him on a hunt, we'd have no say in the matter."

"I'll be there," Black growled. "I'd have a thing or two to say."

Lupin shook his head. "If you fought Greyback in his wolf form as I think you would, you'd lose. Badly."

"You think him a match for an accomplished wizard?" Dumbledore demanded.

Lupin hesitated, looking at Black. "You really should tell him."

"Not until I've had at least one really good prank out of it," Black said, crossing his arms. "That's just too juicy a secret to go bandying about."

"The students are at risk, Padfoot," Lupin prodded. Black still hesitated, and Lupin added, "Including Harry."

That got through. "Fine. But I'm still getting my prank." Suddenly, the man transformed into an enormous black Irish Wolfhound. The dog leapt across Dumbledore's desk and began slobbering all over the headmaster.

Instead of protesting, Dumbledore simply laughed and affectionately patted the transformed Sirius on the head. "Why my dear boy, this explains how you were able to pull so many of your pranks all those years ago! And why you were always sneaking out on the night of the full moon. I suppose this kept you mostly sane in Azkaban? And with Peter a rat, I suppose that would make your stag James? That makes his nickname of Prongs far more sensible."

The doggy kisses stopped, and Sirius pulled back and transformed again. "Damn, do you always have to be so clever Albus?"

Dumbledore only allowed his eyes to twinkle merrily in response.

"Well, I guess you should know. I plan on transforming and going with Moony and the girls on the nights of the full moon. It's only sensible to have someone fully aware of what's going on. And it's a ripping good time."

"Speak for yourself," Remus muttered, but he was smiling. Dumbledore's mind whirled, and a few things clicked into place. No wonder the man had been so despondent while Black was incarcerated and Pettigrew believed dead. He'd not just lost his friends: his wolf had lost his pack. That meant a lot to a werewolf, Dumbledore knew, and would have made the transformations much more violent and dangerous.

"I think it is an excellent plan for you to accompany the girls. I had planned on asking Minerva to tag along for the first transformation in her cat form, but a large black dog would work out much better. Excellent work, the both of you. I was quite certain you were both the best choices for the jobs you've been given." _Not to mention that having the two of you on campus will provide Harry with a chance to get to know you both, and grow close. That way we can place him in a much more suitable magical environment when the time comes._

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Professor, could we speak with you for a moment?"

Professor McGonagall peered over her spectacles at Hermione for a moment, glancing at Lavender standing next to her, looking eager. Parvati had left with the boys, which was unusual enough, but seeing the very studious Hermione with the decidedly not Lavender made some alarm bells go off in her head. "What exactly do you wish to talk about, Miss Granger?"

"We were wondering, what sort of steps did you personally take to become an animagus? At least at the beginning, I'd like to do some research into the topic."

"I'm helping," Lavender added, smiling at McGonagall.

Now McGonagall knew something was up. This couldn't be for their little club, or it would be McAllister standing next to Granger and doing the asking himself. These girls were up to something. "And why, exactly, are you doing research into becoming an animagus?"

Hermione glanced at Lavender and licked her lips, and Lavender plowed on. "Well, you know, we thought it would be very useful to learn how to become one. Your cat form is so beautiful, and we were thinking that maybe if we were animagi it would help us be better at combat than the boys. They're always beating us, you know."

McGonagall narrowed her eyes and looked back and forth between the two girls. "Becoming an animagus is a long and dangerous task, and requires advanced spell work and knowledge. It is a task far beyond the abilities of a second year student, even yourself, Miss Granger. I suggest you look elsewhere for your combat advantages. Good day."

The two girls left, looking slightly upset, but determined. McGonagall was somewhat shocked to realized that Lavender, flighty, girlish Lavender! Looked just as determined as Hermione did. She sighed. It went back to those poor boys last year. Having two of their housemates in their own year killed had left a lasting impact on your young lionesses. The obsession with combat and fighting proved it. Previously, Lavender had cared only for her silly magazines and make up, though she had possessed enough courage to stand up to Pansy Parkinson on occasion. Hermione had wanted to do nothing but study and learn. Look at them now though; ready to embark on advanced magic that would require years of study. They had grown old before her time.

Making her way to the staff room, McGonagall was pleased to see Remus Lupin there alone, quietly working on his lesson plans.

"It does my heart well to see you looking so hale, Remus," McGonagall said, taking a chair across from her former student and reaching for a copy of the quibbler. She enjoyed the Sudoku puzzles they printed on occasion, though she believed the so called news to be rubbish.

Remus looked and smiled, the careworn lines of his face softening as he did so. "Honestly Professor McGonagall, I have not felt so happy and healthy in eleven years. I've got my old friend back, a good job doing what I love, and those I care about near me. If only…." he hesitated, glancing at the door. He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Are you aware of the situation with the two Slytherin girls?"

"Of course Remus, just as I was aware of the situation with you all those years ago. And I've told you, we're peers now. Call me Minerva. Tell me, will you want my help with the girls on the 12th? I'd be happy to assume my animagus form and escort you."

"Oh, that won't be necessary, Sirius will-" Lupin cut himself off, coughing into his fist.

"That man," McGonagall said, grinding her teeth. "He's not matured a lick since you were seventh years. At least one of you four terrors grew into a responsible citizen. What is he going to do? His job I should hope, he is our security officer. But he can't be with you, not on the night of the first transformation. I know Severus hasn't been preparing potion for any of you."

Remus looked like a wolf in the proverbial headlights. "He um, he'll be around. We won't be needing you, a cat is so small anyway, you could get hurt."

"Nonsense! Even as small as I am I can handle two pups and an overgrown puppy such as yourself, werewolf or no."

"Well, you see, we won't be the only ones there, Sirius is planning on, er."

A few suspicions, long held, slowly clicked into place for McGonagall. "Tell me, Moony," she said slowly. "Just how indicative is the name 'Padfoot' for Sirius? Don't think I didn't notice the four animals in his little stunt at the Welcoming Feast. Or that Peter is somehow a rat animagus. What is Sirius' form? Some sort of dog? He's mangy enough for it."

It took a few moments of her patented, "I know what you've been up to so confess now and save us both the trouble later" death glare, but finally after a lot of stammering, Lupin confessed. "Irish wolfhound. James was a stag."

"Hence the name Prongs. So, when did they learn? Was it sixth year? Seventh? I noticed all their absences, don't think I didn't. You can't fool me, not after all these years."

"Halfway through fifth," Lupin admitted. "They found out third year. That I'm a werewolf, that is. They learned to help me on the nights of my transformations."

Just then, the door banged open, and Black strode in. "Remus, you've got to come quick. I think I've found a way to turn Snivellus' hair pink for a fortnight, but I need someone to distract him while I- Oh, hello Aunt Minnie. Fancy seeing you here! Lovely evening, isn't it?"

McGonagall didn't bother dressing down Black. A few more things had clicked into place. Granger and Brown were close with the Greengrass girls. They were looking into animagus forms. Granger probably knew that animagi were able to be around werewolves when transformed, potion or no. Granger was the most brilliant witch of her generation after all.

And God help her, but Minerva was not about to spend the rest of the year being upstaged and outsmarted by Sirius "Padfoot" Black. It was time to play a prank of her own. "Remus, deal with your mutt, and try to keep him collared. I have business to attend to."

"Mutt?" Black said, tossing his silken hair and waggling his eyebrows roguishly. "I'll have you know I'm a pureblood! Got the pedigree and everything!"

"I'll be sure to alert the kennel club. Good evening."

Minerva stalked straight to the library, not even bothering to check Gryffindor tower first. Her refusal would have only led Hermione down the path of going behind an adult's back, a habit she had rapidly picked up from Ronald Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and Harry McAlister. They weren't quite the Marauders Reborn yet, but they were on their way. Time for one Minerva McGonagall to help the only sensible member of that quartet get a leg up and employ a permanent spy.

When she saw Hannah Abbott idling by the door, Minerva reached out and grabbed an ear before the girl could rub the enchanted knut in her pocket. "None of that, young lady. Is Parvati in on your little scheme too, or is it just Greengrass, Granger and Brown?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hannah lied, her eyes darting around desperately and voice climbing an octave to try and alert her friends.

"Of course you don't. Come along, and keep silent. I'm putting my foot down once and for all."

Hannah trailed along behind the lioness, making desperate motions to Ginevra Weasley of all people, who along with Astoria Greengrass had managed to get Madam Pince so worked up she was ignoring all other students in the library. Both of the girls had bright pink bubble gum all over their robes and faces, and on the books they had been reading.

"GUM! CHEWING GUM! IN MY LIBRARY! YOUNG LADIES, I WILL HAVE YOU-"

"I will handle this, Madam Pince. Weasley, Greengrass, fall in with Abbott, and don't make a sound."

Madam Pince looked about ready to explode, but when she saw the determined expression on McGonagall's face, she only gave the two firsties a tight lipped smile that said "You're in for it now."

She had no idea.

With cat like silence, McGonagall crept up on the restricted section. With an expert motion, she reached out and snagged a corner of the invisibility cloak right by the transfiguration books, where one book had been slightly askew. There was a squeal, and in a moment, three red faced girls were staring at her wide eyed with fear. Lavender Brown had an arm full of restricted books, all on advanced transfiguration and animagi. Greengrass was holding a list of books that had several titles already crossed off. And Granger was, of course, the ringleader, had been making the selections herself.

"Which books?" McGonagall demanded. "Give me the list. Hmm. I see. And you've crossed out all the one's that Miss Brown is holding, have you?"

"Yes Professor," the three girls mumbled. Lavender was close to tears, Greengrass looked ready to spit poison, but Granger just looked defiant, as if this setback was only temporary.

Absently, McGonagall fingered the cloak as she read the list. As a first attempt, it wasn't half bad. "The cloak is McAllisters, I take it? The headmaster finally gave him his father's, I assume."

"Yes Professor," Granger admitted. "Please don't confiscate it. I borrowed it, but well, I haven't exactly told him that I had yet."

"As tempted as I am to finally remove this particular thorn in my side for all time, I am quite certain that Miss Weasley here would simply set her brothers on the task of retrieving it and I wouldn't have a moment's peace until those twin walking disaster zones she called siblings had obtained it for her once again."

"Too bloody right," Ginny muttered, then squeaked as McGonagall turned her glare on her. "I mean, sorry, professor."

"Hmph." McGonagall waved her wand over the list, highlighting several names in red and adding a few more choice selections of her own to the list. She handed it back to Hermione, along with the cloak. "Put back all the ones I did not highlight for you, and get the others I've added to the list. Then all six of you come straight to my office."

"Um, OK?" Lavender said, goggling at her professor.

"Professor?" Granger asked, confused.

"Gift horse," Greengrass, ever the pragmatist, snarled. "Do not look in mouth."

"You have ten minutes," McGonagall declared. She glanced at Granger and the younger Greengrass girl. "And the gum?"

"My brothers' invention. It will vanish in another hour or so."

"You had best hope it does. Even with magic, the stuff is beastly to get out of your hair."

With that, McGonagall strode off, leaving six very confused girls behind her.

Exactly ten minutes later, the six girls were standing before McGonagall. The books were stacked neatly on a corner of her desk, and the invisibility cloak was draped over the corner. All six girls looked worried.

"I take it all of you know the Greengrass sisters' little secret, then?" McGonagall demanded. All nodded, their faces a mixture of scared, determined, and obstinate. "And that you four are determined to become animagi so that you can support and comfort your friends in their hour of need?" Again, nods from all.

"You know," McGonagall mused. "Sirius Black, James Potter, and Peter Pettigrew managed to become animagi in just two and a half years."

"What?" the six girls chorused. Then Greengrass slapped her forehead. "Of course! Remus Lupin is also a werewolf!"

"He is?" Hannah squeaked.

"But he's so handsome!" Lavender protested.

Astoria folded her arms across her chest. "And what are my sister and I then, chopped liver?"

Flushing, Lavender hastened to assure her friends that they were lovely, she thought they were lovely, and that really Daphne's makeup was very good and they should really tell Lavender what kind of shampoo and conditioner they used because their hair was fantastic.

"As much as it warms the cockles of my heart to see this display of inter house camaraderie and friendship, save the makeover session for later, girls." Lavender immediately went silent, nodding frantically at McGonagall. McGonagall leaned forward, glaring at the six young witches. "Sirius Black, James Potter, and Peter Pettigrew were three of the most ill behaved, slovenly, skirt chasing, layabout miscreants I ever had the privilege of leading by their noses to adulthood kicking and screaming. They were able, when scarcely older than you, without help, to become full fledged animagi. My question, girls, is this: How long would it take six witches with the help best damn professor of transfiguration this school has ever seen, Albus Dumbledore can go to the devil, to accomplish the same feat?"

Granger did not miss a beat. "We'll be done by the end of term. I'd say Christmas, but I read you have to hold mandrake root in your mouth for a full month and after we do that it would be nearly October and I don't think that's really enough time."

"Are you really offering to help us?" Hannah asked, looking confused. "I thought we'd be in loads of trouble."

"Oh, you'll all have detention with me every Tuesday evening from now until Christmas at least. The question is, will you spend that time doing lines, or learning how to be animagi?"

The response was immediate and unified. "We'll be animagi, thanks, ma'am."

McGonagall's grin was utterly predatory. Sirius Black would never know what hit him.

 _Authors Note:_

 _Coming soon to a fic near you:_

 _Marauders Episode IX: Witches Do It Better_


	37. Chapter 36

_This document beta'd by the knowledgeable Mary Helen_

 _Chapter 36: Sign Here to Save the World_

Last year, Harry and his friends had needed to put in serious effort to recruit others for the defense club, and even then only first years had bothered to attend. Now, however, he was beginning to think he might be in a bit over his head. Every single one of the ten Gryffindor firsties had shown up, including Colin Creevy and his camera, which Harry was about one more annoying flash away from confiscating and chucking out the nearest window. Five of the new Hufflepuffs were there, three of them muggleborns who were looking around with wide eyes at everything that looked slightly magical still. There were even two more Slytherin's in addition to Astoria Greengrass.

The one house who had failed to send a load of new members was oddly enough, Ravenclaw. The dreamy looking blonde girl had wandered in alone and gone to a corner where she had begun carefully studying several of the odd creatures Professor Lupin had in jars. No other Ravenclaws had arrived, and when Harry had asked Padma about it, she'd glanced over at the girl, who's protruding eyes were distorted to be even larger than usual as she peered out from behind a jar with the remains of one of the pixies Crabb and Goyle had detonated.

"Well, it's probably because of Loony Lovegood being here," Padma admitted. "She announced in the common room she was coming and asked if any of the other first years had wanted to join her, then turned around and skipped off. I think a few of them were considering showing up, but when Luna came, well...she's an odd duck, and none of the other kids in her year really like her. Or many of the other Ravenclaws for that matter. Several of the older kids have been muttering that she's an insult to our house. She's always talking about made up creatures and saying nonsense, and in class she usually daydreams and drifts off. And well, she's not the best at personal hygiene"

"That's horrible!" Ginny whispered, having overheard the conversation. "Don't they know that Luna's mother died two years ago? She was completely distraught over it, and she's always been a bit distant since. She lives just over the hill from the Burrow, and mum has her over for dinner a lot. Her dad is very odd, and hasn't really paid as much attention to poor Luna as he should. He's the editor for the Quibbler, you know."

Harry's heart leapt into his throat. He understood all too well the pain of loss for a parent, even if he'd never really known his birth mum and dad. "Well, as long as she's in the Defense Club, she has friends. Padma, why don't you make sure she gets some biscuits. Ginny, invite her to come sit with you and Astoria."

When Padma went over to Luna and offered her some biscuits, the young girl started, but happily selected one, which she then chewed into the shape of a crescent moon and balanced on her nose. Ginny waved to Luna and called her over to sit with her, and the moon fell straight off.

"Are you sure?" Luna said, tilting her head. "Did a wrackspurt crawl into your ear, or do you really want me to sit with you?"

"Luna, you know very well that redheads can't get wrackspurts, my mum told you so. We've known each other for ages, come and sit with me and I'll introduce you to my friend. This is Astoria Greengrass, she's in Slytherin."

Seeing Luna integrate into the group finally, Harry nodded himself and stepped up onto a desk at the front of the room. He clapped his hands, and the room fell into silence.

"Right, welcome to the Dueling Club! We've got a lot of new faces here, so I'll go over the basics. I'm Harry McAllister, and apparently I'm club president or something. Professor Lupin over there is our sponsor," Lupin waved at the class, then went back to going over papers, "and Percy Weasley and Penelope Clearwater are our upper class advisors." Percy and Penelope waved from their corner where they were writing a potions essay.

"Anyway, the Defense Club has one purpose. I've talked with everyone who was in the club last year, and we came up with a charter and stuff which we really didn't do last year. Our purpose is this: To defend those who can't defend themselves. As you all probably know, last year Darth Stupidus, that is, Lord Voldemort, and no, we don't go around saying his name all the time no matter what the older students claim, attacked the school and killed two of our classmates: Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. They couldn't protect themselves, they didn't know how. Ron and Neville here almost got killed as well, and Darth Stupidus tortured them because he was after me so he could finish the job he started twelve years ago when he murdered my birth parents, Lily and James Potter."

"You've probably heard the rumors that we're a barmy lot who don't really respect house boundaries. That's completely correct. You've probably noticed that those of us who were in the club last year always sit with each other at meals at all the different house tables. We also don't spend a lot of time in our house common rooms, instead we hang out in the Chess Room or Library or on the grounds together. That's because if you're in the Defense Club, we don't care what your house is. We'll stick by you and help you, no matter what. It isn't required that you do that, but we encourage it because frankly Darth Stupidus and the Death Eaters are not going to give a damn if you're in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff or Gryffindor or yes, even Slytherin."

"Too that end, the Defense Club does three things. The first is simple; we stick together. The second is what we do every Sunday afternoon, which is come together and practice ways of defending ourselves. Sometimes we call in an expert, like Sergeant Prewett, the caretaker. He was in the norm military in the SAS, which is a very elite military unit. Think the Aurors, but with much more kicking arse. He teaches us martial arts and small unit tactics. Sometimes it's a professor, like Professor Lupin, who helps us practice our wand work and dueling. We even have a very special guest visiting in two weeks, Auror Trainee Tonks, who was our DADA professor last year."

At the mention of Tonks, the Hufflepuffs all cheered. "Year of the Badger! Year of the Badger!" the firsties chanted.

Harry grinned at that and winked. "Yeah, well, let's just say Security Head Black seems to be making this the year of the Lion." There was a muffled groan from Professor Lupin's desk, and a soft thudding sound as he banged his head against his desk. Black had somehow managed to award Gryffindor 300 points within the first week alone. Snape had managed to take away 195 of those points, but Gryffindor still had a massive lead over everyone else. "But honestly, here in the Club we don't really care too much about the house cup. You should still try and earn your house points by all means, but we celebrated with Hannah, Susan, Justin, and Ernie just as much as if our own houses had won the cup."

"House points are a conspiracy anyway," Luna said, blinking her slightly wide eyes at Harry. He shrugged, conceding that it could very well be a devious plot to get students to behave.

"Anyway, the third part of our program takes place every morning at 5:15am out on the Quidditch pitch. We go for a 3k run, though you firsties might want to start off with a 2k, and then

do some physical exercises. Physical fitness is the key to being able to defend ourselves and others. Again, you don't have to be there, but I encourage all of you to come. We've had enough run ins with trouble by now to know that if you're not physically fit you will be in for a world of pain."

"Obviously, this brings up, what are we defending against? Well, the answer should be obvious. We're training to fight Darth Stupidus and his minions first and foremost. Sure, there are bullies here at school and dangerous dark creatures out there, but really those are minor compared to the treat of a powerful dark wizard out to kill and or enslave the entire world. Yes, we have fun, yes, the club is open to anyone, but if you're really going to take this seriously understand this isn't a game. This is life or death, kill or be killed, as the memorial in the hospital wing will attest to."

"Now, who is still interested in joining?"

No one left. After a moment of silence, one of the Hufflepuff firsties raised his hand. "Is it true that Darth Stupidus is out to kill all of us who have muggle parents? No one really told me, but I got the idea that he wanted to."

"Jeremy Webster, isn't it? Your parents are norms, that is, they don't have magic?"

He nodded, looking worried. "I've an older brother and two younger sisters too. Are they in danger?"

"Yes. They are." Harry made a mental note to get Jeremy and the other kids from mundane families information. He'd pass it on to Sergeant Prewett to make sure they were looked after.

Swallowing, Jeremy nodded. "Well then, I guess it's up to me to help them, yeah?"

"Unfortunately, yes. The Ministry of Magic does a rubbish job of keeping people protected. Here at school it's a lot better, but as I just said, even Hogwarts isn't really safe. Because of that, we have the club. We keep each other safe. It doesn't matter what house you're in, it doesn't matter who your parents are, it doesn't even matter if you have magic or not. My parents and sister don't have magic, and I'll help keep them safe too and so would any of my friends."

There was a chorus of agreement and cheers, and Harry grinned broadly. "Right, all that said, it's time to teach you firsties the basics of martial arts." All the students were in muggle clothes or their gis or tights, as the new students had been informed by their seniors as to what to bring.

Soon the air was filled with grunts and cries as the firsties practiced their very first basic punches and blocks, instructed by the second years. Harry himself wandered about, helping give pointers to the instructors and students. To Harry's surprise, Luna Lovegood turned out to have a mean punch, and had clobbered poor Padma as she'd tried to demonstrate a block.

"Sorry," Luna said, looking down at her erstwhile teacher with a bemused expression on her face. "I thought you said you were going to block it."

"I was," Padma said, standing and rubbing her chest with a pained expression. "But you just came right in didn't you. Pretty good. Why don't you try Harry here?"

Luna immediately slammed her fist towards Harry, who only barely managed to block with a downward blow. "Good Lord Luna, you don't hold back do you?"

"Well, you did say we were going to practice punches and blocks, didn't you? I don't think Darth Stupidus would be holding back if he were going to hit you now would he?"

"Too right. Carry on."

After about 40 minutes of instruction, most of the first years could block a basic blow and throw a decent punch. "Right then, to show you all what this leads up to, we're going to have a little exhibition match between the two top ranked fighters from last year. Neville, come on up."

Neville sauntered up to the front of the room, flexing and brandishing his wand. "You're going down this time Harry. I've been training all summer with Uncle Algie. He fought against Grindelwald and Darth Stupidus, you know." Neville didn't mention the SAS combat instructors who'd been even more informative on how to take apart an opponent.

Hermione stepped up between the two combatants, who shook hands then retreated to opposite ends of the mat. Percy and Penelope came over to watch, and Lupin put down his work to watch.

"Ready? Begin!" Hermione stepped out from between the two boys, and immediately spells started to fly. Harry let loose with a jelly legs curse, followed by a knockback jinx while dodging Neville's full body bind. The spell work continued for a few seconds, hexes and jinxes crackling through the air. Neville took a slug spewing curse, but countered it before more than a little slime escaped his lips. Harry was hit by two stinging jinxes, but shrugged them off and kept fighting.

As if at an agreed upon signal, both fighters stopped circled and closed in, Harry countering Neville's impediment hex and firing off his own tickling jinx, which went wide as Neville rolled to the side. Then the wands were tucked away and the exchange of physical blows began. Harry was faster, his punches getting around Neville's defenses maneuvering to his advantage. Neville was much larger and stronger than the wiry club president however, and what blows of his did land left large bruises on Harry's body. Then they were grappling, Harry kicking furiously at Neville's legs to try and knock him off balance, while Neville used his weight and bore down on Harry. They were on the ground, rolling and kicking, then both rolled away and drew their wands.

"Petrificus totalus!" Both boys screamed at nearly the same time. Harry was just a hair faster though, and Neville's stiff form toppled first, while only the right half of Harry's body was frozen. With a grunt, Harry counted his own body bind, freeing himself and standing back up.

"Winner, Harry!" Hermione declared.

"Bloody hell," Colin Creevy swore, then snapped a photograph of the victor.

Harry walked over and freed Neville, then helped him to his feet. "Not this time, Nev." As Neville stood up, Harry whispered in his ear, "You didn't have to throw the fight you know, you could have had me pinned there."

"Can't have the firsties seeing the club president get his arse handed to him on the first day," Neville whispered back, winking at Harry.

The two fighters turned and bowed to the audience, who clapped and cheered. The firsties looked especially impressed, though several veterans had knowing looks on their faces. Neville had beaten Harry every time he'd gotten him to ground before, and they knew it. Still, it had been entertaining, so they clapped as well.

With the club over, the students broke up to head down to dinner. On his way to the door, Harry was stopped by Professor Lupin. "Harry, can I speak with you for a moment?"

"Of course sir," Harry said, waving his friends along.

"That was very impressive, Harry," Lupin said, nodding to the scoreboard where the new Defense Club duels were tallied."You fight better than a lot of veterans of the last war, especially with those martial arts involved. Where did you learn to fight like that?"

"Well, you've met my dad, right?"

Chuckled. "Well, you can't say James-" he cut himself off, looking embarrassed as Harry flushed bright red. "I'm sorry Harry. It's just...you are so very much like James Potter, and I do think of him as your father before Mr. McAllister…."

"James Potter was my father," Harry agreed. "But to me, Tom McAllister is my dad. I really respect my birth father, I do, I know he died to save me. But...but I don't think of myself as Harry Potter."

Lupin sighed, looking suddenly ten years older. "Honestly Harry, I don't think James would have minded. Or Lily, for that matter. That you're healthy, that you've been raised in a loving home, that you're happy and have been safe...that's what would have mattered to them. But Harry, as good a fighter as you are, and as fierce as I am sure your adoptive father is, he cannot keep you safe. Not in the coming storm."

"You'd be surprised," Harry said, crossing his arms over his chest and sticking his jaw out. He didn't know it, but he was a perfect picture of Tom McAllister when he turned stubborn, and despite only having met the man once, Remus Lupin could see it.

"Perhaps. But you really must consider the offer your godfather is going to give you. He does care for you, Harry, and he wants you safe."

"Does he, or does he just see James Potter like you do?" Harry demanded.

Lupin flinched, looking wounded. "I see Harry McAllister, a bright, capable young man. And one with a target marked on his forehead that a terrible dark wizard, no matter what silly names you give him, will stop at nothing to destroy."

"And what does Mr. Black see?"

"He sees...well, he does see a lot of James in you, and to be fair, you do take after him quite a lot despite having been raised by another man. But he also sees his pup, his godson, that he will stop at nothing to protect."

Harry did not relent. "When he's not too busy trying to relive his childhood. Did you know he rewarded me for blowing up the potions classroom? He hardly acts like an adult."

"He was imprisoned and tortured for ten years, Harry," Lupin replied. "It affected him deeply, though he tries not to show it as much now. Don't forget that he and your father were like brothers. The loss drove him deeper into madness than anything the dementors did."

"Well then he should see a psychiatrist and stop trying to use me as a replacement for my dead father!" Harry stormed out of the room, feeling hurt, guilty and angry. His feelings were mess of conflicting emotions. On one hand, he wanted to learn more about his dead birth parents and grow close to their friends. On the other, he resented the wizarding world for trying to separate him from his family and causing no end of trouble for himself and his family. Couldn't he just be normal for once?

Harry stopped, shaking his head. "I'm not normal," Harry whispered to himself. "I'm a hero. I've got responsibilities. And unlike Black, I'm not running from them." With that, he stalked down to the Great Hall and sat at the Ravenclaw table with the others, trying to lose himself in the loud conversation and food. But every time he looked up, he saw Black, staring at him with a wistful expression.

Damn it all. Sometimes, Harry's life really was too complicated.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Sweat beaded on Harry's forehead as he locked eyes with Snape. He tried to keep his mind empty, to resist the clawing tendrils that sought to rip out his most precious secrets. He envisioned a brick wall surrounding his mind, one that nothing could penetrate. He gasped, and the wall collapsed. The tendrils sought to take his secrets, and Harry threw junk memories at them, of movies or books, things that were not real, desperately trying to hold them off.

"Well, that wasn't as completely hopeless as usual, McAllister. I actually had to put for a modicum of effort for once."

"Thank you, sir," Harry panted, gasping for breath. He glanced at the clock and swore softly. He'd held out for less than a minute, only 57 measly seconds.

"Indeed. At this rate, you may yet become an occlumens sometime before you die. Granger! You are next."

Harry plodded to the back of the classroom and started helping to prepare potion ingredients with Ron. Neville was cleaning cauldrons; Snape still didn't trust his work even though it had improved dramatically in the last year. The boy's attention was on Hermione though. This was their first detention since they'd returned, and they wanted to see how each of them would measure up.

The battle lasted for quite a while, but after just over a minute and a half, Hermione too crumpled under Snape's mental assault. "Well well. Perhaps being an insufferable know it all has it's advantages. Been practicing meditation that you've learned in muggle books, have you?"

"The Tao of Jeet Kune Do," Hermione confirmed, wiping sweat from her brow. "It's helped a lot."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Time will tell. Weasley!"

Ron set down his knife and strode forward, giving Hermione a squeeze on her shoulder as she got down off the stool. "You were brilliant," he said, glaring at Snape. "You'll have to show me those meditation techniques."

Ron himself managed to do slightly worse than Harry at 54 seconds, and got only a sneer for his efforts. Hermione gave him a hug before he got back to cutting up flobberworms, and Ron flushed slightly. Harry shuddered. He just hoped his friend wasn't about to go all girl crazy.

Neville squared his shoulders and marched up, plunking himself down on the stool. Harry watched the clock. Thirty seconds. Forty five seconds. One minute and- Neville jerked back as if slapped, then bowed his head in defeat, grunting in pain.

"It seems you lot have not been completely wasting your time," Snape declared. "Keep your defenses up. For the rest of your detention, I shall be using passive legilimency. This form does not require the eye contact of a deep search, and can only be used to probe surface thoughts. Shore up your mental defenses. Begin!"

Harry tried to keep up his mental defenses while he worked, but his mind kept drifting back to Sirius Black. He'd invited Harry to join him on his rounds twice already, and Harry was pretty sure if he'd said yes the topic of spending Christmas with Black would have come up. Still, whenever he felt Snape's mental probes, Harry firmed up his wall again and tried to repel them. He was fairly certain he mostly succeeded, but couldn't be completely sure.

"That will do for tonight. Dismissed," Snape declared at around 8:00. He pointed to Harry as the group sprinted for the door. "McAllister: stay a moment."

Harry's friends paused, glancing at Harry and Snape. Harry shrugged, and Snape said nothing, so they simply went outside the door and waited.

"I saw that your godfather has been attempting to ingratiate himself with you. Do not fall for his charms: he is a cheat and a deceiver, and would gladly hand you over to Dumbledore on a lark."

"I don't intend to let myself be taken, sir. Have you still got that disease potion?"

"I still have the essence of Spattergroit, yes. As much as I would enjoy using it, Black does have his uses. He is a capable wizard when he isn't causing mayhem or prancing about like a show pony. For now, I believe it best that he remain here to keep our defenses intact, and to care for certain students in my own house."

"What does that mean?" Harry said, confused.

Snape sneered. "Ask Mrs. Granger. Perhaps she can enlighten you."

"Um, alright. Anything else?"

"Tell Black that if he does succeed in turning my hair pink, I shall do the responsible thing and ensure that all Hogwarts mutts are spayed and neutered as is proper."

"But Fang is-"

"Irrelevant. Now go. I do have actual work to accomplish."

Confused, Harry walked out and joined his waiting friends. "Hermione, do you know anything about Mr. Black helping with some Slytherins?"

"Oh, no, I'm sure I don't Harry," Hermione said, flushing. "He does seem to favor Gryffindor though, doesn't he?"

"Good, maybe we'll have a shot at the cup this year," Ron said cheerfully. "Good on the 'puffs for getting it last year, even if Tonks did basically cheat for them. Wouldn't mind having the hall in Scarlet and Gold for the end of the year though."

"I think Luna's right," Neville said. "It's a conspiracy caused by those nargle thingies."

"It is a conspiracy," Harry said seriously, causing all his friends to look at him in shock. "A conspiracy to get us all to behave properly."

That caused everyone to laugh, and the group trooped up to Gryffindor tower, too exhausted by their marathon training session to even think of anything else.


	38. Chapter 37

_Chapter 37: Trapped in Lies_

"Hey, Harry, hold this, will you?"

A water balloon was thrust into Harry's hands, and he glanced over to see Sirius Black biting his lip, holding another water balloon like it was a missile and aiming it out the nearby window.

"Uh, sir, do you think this is appropriate?" Harry said, ready to drop the balloon and be done with it.

"Wouldn't drop that if I were you," Black warned. "Your hair would go all pink."

"Your hair would look smashing in pink, Harry," Blaise said, reaching for the balloon. "Why don't we dump it on your head and give it a try?"

"No!" Harry declared, holding the balloon away from Blaise as Lavender and Hermione giggled. "Absolutely not! We've got DADA in five minutes, let's dump this in the loo and hurry up!"

"Where's your spirit of adventure, Harry?" Black asked, still gazing intently out the window. "Here little Snivellus, come to papa."

"You know, I think he threatened to hex your bits off if you turned his hair pink," Harry said, holding the balloon as far away from himself as he could and looking around for a nice place to ditch it.

"Like to bloody well see him try," Black muttered. "Ah ha!" Black let his balloon fly, and Harry shouted in alarm.

There was a flash and a bang, and Black toppled back onto Harry, who dropped the balloon on both of them.

"Bugger! Why'd you have to go and warn him, Harry?" Black demanded, jumping to his feet. He stopped as he held out a hand to Harry, doubling over and wheezing in laughter.

"What?" Harry said, feeling his hair. "It didn't turn pink did it?"

"Such a lovely color on you," Blaise mused, putting a hand over his mouth to hide his smile. "I'm sure Professor Lupin will really appreciate it."

"Is mine pink too?" Black said, brushing his own hair.

Hermione and Lavender both nodded furiously, trying desperately to stifle their own giggles. Black's long hair was now a bright bubblegum pink, making him resemble nothing so much as a barbie doll.

Black stuck his head out the window and shook his fist. "Curse you, Severus Snape! I'll get you for this."

"It wasn't him ya plonker! Point to the Wonder Twins!" an all too familiar voice called back, followed by several insults and raspberries.

"I must be growing soft," Black sighed, sticking his head back in. "Outdone by a couple of fourth years. I'll have to come up with something really good to get them back."

"Can I go now?" Harry said, trying to catch a glimpse of his hair in the window. Becky could never learn of this. Ever.

"Wow Harry, great look! You too Mr. Black!" there was a bright flash, and Colin Creevy took off down the corridor, holding his camera high and laughing hysterically.

"Damn you!" Harry snarled, and made to go after the firstie. He was going to murder that camera.

"We're going to be late for class," Hermione said, grabbing Harry before he could go far. "Come on."

"Come see me later Harry, I have the antidote!" Black said, cheerfully waving as Harry was hauled off by his friends. "Ten points to Gryffindor for not murdering your housemate!"

"Go bugger yourself Black!" Harry shouted, turning nearly as pink as his hair.

Harry sulked at the back of the room, trying to ignore the gales of laughter coming from the Slytherin side. Even Daphne, who had been acting ill all day, was clutching her sides and hooting with laughter.

"Can you believe it? Bunch of traitors," Harry muttered to Nevile. He wasn't talking to Ron, who giggling like a maniac with Hermione and the other girls.

"Oh yes," Neville said absently. "You said Collin got a picture, did you?"

"Don't you dare," Harry warned. "I'm going to personally destroy that blasted camera the first chance I get."

"I was just thinking, isn't Becky's birthday coming up?"

"I will end you!" Harry shouted, standing and diving for Neville's throat.

"Settle down!" Lupin's voice boomed. The man looked even shabbier than usual, and was rubbing his forehead as if he had a terrible headache. "What is going on in here? Harry, get off of Neville this instant or I will...why is your hair pink?"

"Why don't you ask my godfather and Mr. Clown over there's brothers!" Harry said, standing and glaring around the room.

Lupin's lip twitched slightly. "I see."

Harry felt his own lip twitch, then he chuckled. "Guess I'm a match for Professor Tonks now, eh?"

"No, you're not nearly as good looking," Lupin said seriously. "Do you want to go to the hospital wing?"

"No, Black said he had the antidote. I'll just go see him after class. You can help me hide the body when I'm done."

"I'm afraid body hiding won't be coming up in our lessons until my planned lesson on Mr. Lockhart, who seems to be rather adept at the practice. Now, everyone get the laughter out of your system, because today we are going to be practicing the disarming charm, and frankly if you drop your wand because your laughing at someone's hair color I'm going to have to take away points."

"Just make sure it's from the Gryffindors," Malfoy sneered. "I heard Harry got 10 points for turning his hair pink."

"I know where you sleep at night, Malfoy!"

"Same to you McAlister, but good luck getting inside the Slytherin common room."

The lesson ended up not being too terrible once Harry lightened up a bit and was able to laugh at himself. At the end however, he made a mad dash for Black's office wearing a knitted cap that Hermione had transfigured for him after taking pity on Harry.

Black was waiting for Harry inside, his hair still a radiant pink. "Please tell me you have the antidote," Harry panted.

Grinning, Black held up a potion that was a dirty brown color. "Got it right here. Want to make a trade?"

"I'll help you get back Fred and George," Harry offered. He will a little irritated at the two older boys, so it wouldn't be that irksome.

"Hmm, I was thinking maybe you could come visit me at one of my houses over Christmas break." Harry started to stick his jaw out, and Black held up his hands. "Not the whole time, mind, just a day or two. I could tell you stories about your parents, you know."

"I know plenty about Tom and Alice McAllister," Harry snapped, feeling rather irritated that Black was, well, blackmailing him.

Now it was Black's turn to grow irritated. "You know what I mean. Stories about James and Lily, your real parents!"

"I am well aware of who my birth parents are, but they are no more and no less my real parents then the people who raised me!"

"They're a couple of muggles! You're a wizard, Harry, and a famous one, not just some-"

They were both shouting now, red faced and angry, a man trapped in the past and a boy who couldn't see past his own anger.

"Some what? Some mudblood? I had at least hoped you weren't as totally prejudiced as the worst of the lot, that maybe my birth parents were actually decent people instead of a bunch of stuck up snobs like most of you bloody maggies!"

"I was going to say some nobody! And what the hell is a maggie? You calling me a woman?"

"I don't know, are you? Snape said he'd hex your bits off and he's twice the man you are!"

"YOU DARE COMPARE ME TO THAT SPINELESS TRAITOR? HE GOT YOUR PARENTS KILLED YOU UNGRATEFUL BRAT!"

"Enough!" Remus Lupin stalked into the office, glaring at both of them. "Sirius, give Harry the potion."

"Remus, I-"

"Give him the potion, now! We have places to be, or did you forget in your eagerness to prank an old school rival you should have gotten over ages ago!"

Sirius tossed the potion to Harry with a snarl. Harry downed it, threw the vial onto the floor in a fit of pique, shattering it, and marched off, slamming the door behind him. Sirius Black could go to the devil.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/

All night long, Daphne tossed and turned, sweating and feeling wretched. Her skin itched and her mind felt ablaze, her head ached and her stomach roiled. In the morning, she was to ill to go down to breakfast, stumbling up to the infirmary with Astoria. Madam Wainscott didn't say a word, giving the two girls a bed and some painkilling potion. The potion didn't help though, and all day Daphne sweated and moaned, feeling as if she were dying.

As night approached, it became worse. Daphne felt her temper rising, and she snapped and snarled at anyone who came near. Thankfully her friends took this as PMS, though in truth no girl had ever suffered such horrific pains just for her period. Towards evening, Professor Lupin arrived along with Sirius Black, and escorted the girls down to the grounds and out to the shrieking shack. By this point, Daphne had managed to tear out chunks of her hair, and Astoria had long red scratches all over her arms and legs.

"Make it stop," Astoria wept, sagging in the arms of Mr. Black.

"It's alright, kiddo," Black said softly. "You'll survive. It's just once a month, and it won't normally be this bad."

Daphne prayed that he spoke the truth. Her eyes darted back and forth, the corners of her vision filled with unseen horrors that would soon leap out and devour her, mind and body.

"Are you alright professor," she whispered during one of her saner moments as she leaned on him. Her artificial leg was back in the hospital wing, having been removed for the transformation.

He shock his head, his expression drawn. "No, Daphne. I've had years to grow used to it, but it still affects me. I won't be alright for several days. Neither will you. It seems bad now, but after and during...well, let's just say this is but at taste of what's to come."

"You're supposed to say it will be alright!" Daphne wept, rubbing the palms of her hands on her face. "I can feel something pulling at me! It's in my skin, it has to get out!"

"Yes. It won't be long now." Lupin and Black stepped into another room of the shrieking shack, leaving Daphne and Astoria to writhe in agony on the floor alone. Why had they abandoned her? She was dying!

And then it happened. The call became too much. Daphne shrieked in pain and agony, and Astoria's voice joined her as the two girls bodies' were wracked with agony. Bones snapped and twisted, organs ruptured and reformed, skin burst and bleed freely, and hair twisted and grew. Her teeth felt like they had all exploded as they elongated, and her hands disappeared into furry paws with long, sharp claws. She tried to scream, but she could not. A beast grabbed her by the throat and dragged Daphne, kicking and screaming, into a dark pit where she had no control over herself.

But she could still see, could still feel echos. And what she saw and felt horrified her. Her sister was gone, replaced by a gaunt, monstrous wolf with glowing yellow eyes and dripping fangs. She could feel a hunger, a thirst for blood and human flesh that defied all reason, an all consuming drive to kill and rend, to destroy and bring death to humanity. The wolf snarled and started to charge the walls, to break free and find prey, to find throats to slash and blood to spill.

But the beast she had become paused, sniffing the air. There were other scents on the wind.

A new wolf, this one larger and more terrifying than Daphne's own monstrous form, walked forward. This one was male, and not-Daphne sniffed him curiously. With dawning horror, she realized that whatever she had become wanted to mate with this new wolf and bear his cubs. She howled in disgust and terror, but could do nothing as the male wolf approached, the werewolf form of her own professor.

With a load bark, a black dog put itself between not-Daphne and the other wolf. She sobbed in gratitude as the dog barked and jumped, nipping at the wolves in playful antics. Soon the wolves were wrestling and howling, enjoying the games. Before long, the dog led them back down the tunnel and out a secret door. From there they emerged into the woods, and the wolves paused to howl at the moon. Daphne felt sick with horror as she realized she was in the Forbidden Forest, where monsters roam.

But now, Daphne was the monster. She was the terror in the night, and she wept in fury and anguish, for she had no power here.

Long into the night, the dog led the wolves deep into the forest. Many animals were scented, but the wolves had no interest in prey that did not go on two legs. Beneath the stars and moon they ran, playing and howling and looking for blood. At the end of the long night, the dog led the wolves back to the secret door, and they passed back to the shack. The male wolf edged up to not-Daphne, sniffing at her with interest that she returned. With a growl the dog broke it up, dragging the male wolf away and leaving not-Daphne with not-Astoria.

A few moments later, the pain returned, as horrific as ever. Bones once again snapped and reformed and her entire body twisted. Sensing her chance, Daphne snarled and struggled with her bonds, clawing her way back into control of her own body.

Finally she lay panting in a pool of sweat and blood on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, whimpering with pain and remembered horror. Her sister lay beside her, both of them naked as the day they were born.

"Daphne, Astoria, I'm tossing in a pair of robes. Your old ones would have been ruined. If you can't put them on alone, I'll call for Professor McGonagall and she can assist you."

With a groan, Daphne dragged herself over and got her robe on. "I can manage," she hissed, gritting her teeth at the pain, unable to stand with only one leg. She helped Astoria dress, then collapsed. "We're decent," she moaned.

Black came in immediately, scooping up both girls in strong arms. "Come on then, let's get you to bed."

Daphne passed out long before they made it back to the castle, her mind numb with shock and horror.

What had she become?

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Daphne awoke in the hospital wing, her body still aching and sore, her fever burning her eyes and mind. She groaned and looked about for Astoria. There. Her sister was asleep, looking pale and bloodied from the night before. Daphne closed her eyes, tears leaking down her face. She had survived. Somehow.

"Daphne? Are you awake?"

Cracking her eyes open, Daphne saw the concerned face of Lavender. "Go away."

"Ok." Daphne heard the squeal of a stool being pulled up to her bed, and felt a cool touch on her forehead. "I'll go if you really want me too, but if I had just had as awful a time as you had, I'd want someone with me."

Daphne did not protest further, and relaxed slightly and Lavender carefully patted her fevered forehead with the cool cloth. "What about Astoria?" she croaked after a long minute.

"I'll take care of Astoria," Ginny's voice said.

Daphne nodded, and after a few minutes, fell back into the loving embrace of unconsciousness.

When she awoke again it was night. Lavender and Ginny were gone, and in there place was…

"Luna?" Daphne asked, feeling slightly panicked. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, hello Daphne," the young Ravenclaw said, smiling up at her from a magazine she was apparently reading upside down. In the dark. "Astoria and you were ill, so I snuck in when Madam Wainscott was helping Colin Creevy. Apparently, his camera exploded and it hurt his hand. Harry looked a little guilty, but I think he felt slightly vindicated. I do hope he realized Colin was carrying a fake."

"I...what?" Daphne blinked, trying to make sense of what the girl had said. "But why are you here? You're not ill." _Except maybe in the head._

"Because Astoria is my friend," Luna said simply. She held up basket, and Daphne could smell food. Her stomach rumbled, and she realized she was ravenous. "Are you hungry?"

"Famished. Got any meat?"

"Well I do have some cold roast beef from dinner, but I don't think that's good for someone who's just been ill. What about some nice soup, my mother used to make that for me when she was alive."

"Meat. Give it."

Luna shrugged and handed over the meat, watching Daphne with her too big, unblinking eyes as she devoured the beef. It was far too cooked, being only slightly rare, but it was better than nothing.

Astoria groaned and stirred, and Luna turned to feed the younger Greengrass as well.

"Alright Ria?" Daphne asked when her sister had licked her fingers clean in a most unladylike fashion. Daphne would have scolded her, but to her chagrin she realized she'd done the same thing.

"Alive, Daph," Astoria whispered. "I never want to do that again. It was horrible."

"I suspect you'll have to until you get old and wrinkled," Luna said.

Daphne started, having almost forgotten the other girl as she'd lapsed into one of her silent trance like day dreams. "What do you mean?"

"Well, when I had my first cycle, my dad didn't know what to do so I ran off to the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley was very kind and explained it to me. Apparently, we have our periods until we get old and wrinkled as my great Auntie Maribell because then we can't have babies anymore."

"I see," Daphne said, suddenly feeling a spark of pity for the young ravenclaw. At least she'd had her mum, who could be quite warm and comforting when the need arose. Luna appeared to have somehow survived a rather neglected childhood once her mother had died.

"You think we got this sick from our periods?" Astoria said, sounding stunned.

"Well obviously not, but it seems wrackspurts have infested everyone else and made them act as though that's what happened. I'm not entirely certain why you're so sick, but I decided I'd pick up a wrackspurt or two of my own and play along. Also, where did you get those marks on your face, Astoria? They don't look fresh, they look quite old actually, but I've never seen them before."

Astoria's hands flew to her face, her mouth forming a small "O" shape. Daphne flinched, realizing they hadn't put the glamor back up.

"And also, do you always take your leg off, Daphne? I noticed that you're missing one, and looked around and found it for you. It was behind your bed under a sheet."

"Bloody 'claws," Daphne growled, then covered her mouth in embarrassment. "Sorry, Luna."

"I think that actually might have been a compliment," Luna mused. "You were saying that I saw too much and was being too clever for my own good weren't you?"

"Who's here?" a voice from behind the curtain hissed. "Hannah is that you?"

"No, it is I, Luna Lovegood, and my friends, Astoria and Daphne. They are sick with premenstrual syndrome and a wrackspurt infestation. Who are you, O invisible spirit of the night?"

There was a short silence, then Ginny's voice said. "We're um, a snuffleupagus, here to take away bad girls who are out of bed when they shouldn't be to mine ginger and cinnamon in our spice mines."

Luna hopped off her seat. "Alright, snuffleupagus who sounds exactly like my friend Ginny. You should know though, that spices grow on trees, and don't come from mines. That's why the Greenman Cabal is so focused on controlling the import of plant products, they don't like sugar or spice or anything nice. Also, I am fairly certain that as a Ravenclaw, I should be able to see a snuffleupagus, because Big Bird did eventually see his." And then Luna skipped off, vanishing into the night.

An invisible hand thrust the curtain, and then Hermione whipped the invisibility cloak off of herself and Ginny.

"What on earth was she babbling about?" Hermione said, frowning behind her.

"That's Luna for you," Ginny said, shaking her head. "She seems like she's totally batty and not at all there, but not much gets past her at all. And then she goes on about some random loony plot her father printed in his paper and makes you wonder if you were imagining her being brilliant."

"Do I smell meat?" Daphne said, feeling her mouth filling with saliva.

Hermione held up a hamper. "Yes, I got the elves to give us some warmed up uncooked liver. I hope that's OK?"

"Give it," Astoria said, reaching for the hamper. "Luna's beef was too cooked."

"She brought you food? Wow, she was really paying attention for once," Ginny said, passing out the nearly raw liver.

Daphne and Astoria didn't' answer, devouring the food with gusto. Daphne licked the blood off her fingers and hands, savoring the taste. Suddenly, she realized what she was doing, and dropped her bloodied hand onto the bed clothes. "What am I doing?" she sobbed, hanging her head in shame.

Hermione was at her side in a moment. "You're suffering from a terrible curse, and you spent last night completely out of your mind. There's no need to feel ashamed, if you want more liver I have some, but if not I also have a few scones the elves were making for breakfast. They're fresh."

"I'll have the scones, please. Do you have any honey?"

"Of course. I have tea in a thermos as well."

After a few minutes of quiet eating, Astoria wiped her lips on her napkin. She'd had more liver, and Daphne was jealous of the delicious blood dripping off her chin. "Ginny, what's a snuffleupagus?"

"I don't actually know," Ginny admitted. "It was in a muggle book my dad used to read to me ages ago. He was tickled pink that he had found a piece of muggle children's literature. I frankly don't know how Luna knew about it."

"Maybe your dad read her the book too?" Hermione guessed.

Ginny just shrugged. "Who knows? Luna knows all kinds of things that she probably shouldn't, because her father doesn't really monitor what she says or does. Do you know, he put her in muggle school for a few weeks, then forgot about it and my dad had to send in the obliviators everyone because they thought a child was missing?"

"I'd say that explains a lot, but honestly the more you tell me about her the more confused I am," Hermione said, shaking her head.

"I think she suspects us," Astoria said quietly. "Or if not, she'll figure out that we're, well, you know…."

"Maybe, and maybe she'll decide that you're both lunapaths or something and that crumple horned snorkacks or whatever are responsible," Ginny said. "No one would believe her if she told the whole school you were werewolves anyway."

"But I'd want to believe her," Astoria whispered. "She's my friend."

Daphne tapped her chin thoughtfully. "You know, I think I really must know what sort of animagus Luna would turn out to be. Because if it's a nargle or something, that would be really impressive."

\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Professor McGonagall could feel a headache coming on. If she wasn't so determined to bamboozle Black and one up him for all time, she might seriously consider abandoning this insane endeavor all together.

"What do you mean, you want me to give Luna Lovegood detention with you? That girl can barely focus in class, let alone show the mental discipline required to become an animagus."

Astoria just shrugged. "She's my friend. And I think she could use some more friends as well. Plus, out of all of us, which do you think is most likely to come up with a really good way to prank Black and Lupin?"

McGonagall sighed. It was going to be a two whiskey tumbler night.


	39. Chapter 38

_This document beta'd by the knowledgeable Marry Helen_

 **WARNING: For several days the sites email alerts were not going out, and this story updated in that period. You may wish to go back and read the last two chapters if you have not already.**

 _Chapter 38: What the blind man sees_

Amelia Bones had been sleeping peacefully in her bed, safe behind her sturdy wards, when her fireplace had suddenly erupted with green fire.

"Amelia, our wards, they've gone bonkers! They're explosions and screams all around, the entire place has gone mad!" her brother's disembodied head had screamed.

Immediately, Amelia had grabbed a handful of floo powder and stepped through the flames to her brothers cottage in Stratford-Upon-Avon. She saw her sister in law, her youngest boy clutched in her arms, looking absolutely petrified as Ashley had motioned to her, peeking out of the window with one eye while clutching his wand. Crouching low, Amelia had crept forward and heard a loud, strange staccato sound.

"What is it?" Ashley had asked, ducking back down. "The wards near Anthony's window went mad, and there was something trying to get in. It nearly did when the wall shuddered with some sort of explosion and drove the thing off. The sounds have been getting more distant ever since, but I'm concerned."

"Right, all of you back through the floo," Amelia had ordered. "I'll be right behind you. I'm not coming back without a whole bloody team."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/

Tonks gazed around the Bones Family cottage and let out a low whistle. There was a blast mark by the wall that had put a serious dent in the old brick and mortar structure, lucky thing it had been so solid, and several splintered bricks were small projectiles had struck it. "What the bloody hell did all that?" '

"Use your damn nose and eyes," Moody growled, stomping around the crime scene. "It's bloody obvious."

Tonks morphed her nose to be more sensitive and sniffed, shrugging slightly. "It smells a bit like rotten eggs?"

"Like sulfur. Gunpowder."

"Gunpowder?" Tonks hair went white for a moment. "But that would mean-"

"Muggles. But they weren't trying to kill the kid, or even get to him. Look."

Walking over, Tonks examined the mud and frowned. There was a bit of blood and hair. Taking out her wand, she did a couple of diagnostic spells. "Bloody hell boss, that's werewolf hair that is!"

"A knut gets you a galleon that hair turns up a match for the stuff we found near the Greengrass girls a month ago," Moody growled.

"Oh Merlin. It's Greyback, isn't it? He's on the hunt again."

"Obviously. But that's not the real question, is it recruit?"

"No." Tonks stood and narrowed her eyes at the bullet holes and impact crater. "The real question is, what the bloody hell were muggles doing trying to bag themselves a werewolf, and how in blazes did they get past the antimuggle wards?"

"Tom McAllister did it. And he works for Sport and Social."

"What's Harry's dad being a part of some sort of club got to do with the price of dragon eggs in Romania?"

"Sport and Social. Come on girl, your dad's made sure you weren't completely ignorant of how the muggles do things. What's the acronym?"

"SS? But why would Nazis-"

"Not the bloody krauts, Lord knows I lived through the blitz and they were not that clever, no, SAS, not SS."

"SAS…but that would be…oh Merlin. What do we tell the director?"

"Nothing. Not until we've had a chat with our good friend Sergeant Charlie."

Tonks eyes widened. "You don't think he had anything to do with this, do you?"

"Not directly, no. But I've done a bit of digging. He worked with Tom McAllister. Several combat ribbons. The Falklands. Kuwait. And some other business that no one ever talks about. Bit odd that a decorated combat veteran couldn't find any work but that of a lowly groundskeeper at Hogwarts, isn't it?"

"Well, he said that his wife kicked him out when his daughter started developing magic, blamed him because he'd never told her. Got fed up with the muggle world and stayed in Hogsmeade. When Flich quit all of a sudden like that, he saw his opportunity and…well, when you say it out loud like that, it is all a bit too pat isn't it?"

"What do we say about coincidences, recruit?"

"That they don't bloody well exist, boss."

It was only a quick apparition to Hogsmeade, then a short walk over to the castle gate. Sirius Black of all people greeted them, grinning widely at Moody.

"Alastor you old curmudgeon, come to haul me off for my sins yet again have you?"

"I wasn't your arresting officer, Black, and you bloody well know it. If it had been me instead of Dawlish on your case you damn well would have gotten a trial."

"Well, yes, I know that. That's why I didn't try to hex your bits off just now."

"That and you know you'd never take me in a fair fight, Black."

"Who said anything about fighting fair?"

Moody grinned wickedly. "That's my boy. We need to speak to Charles Prewett."

"What, the squib? What for?"

"Oi, he's more than a squib, ugly," Tonks said, poking her cousin in the chest.

"Oof! Hey, play nice or I'll write you and your mum out of the family tree again!"

Tonks rolled her eyes and gave her cousin a hug. "No you wouldn't."

"No I wouldn't," Sirius admitted. "Well, alright. He's probably on the pitch now, running about like a loon with Harry and his mates. It's dead early. You're lucky I was up, I normally sleep in."

Tonks looked at the shadows under her cousin's eyes. "Long night?"

"Constant Vigilance!" Black said cheerfully, winking at her.

"You really did train with the boss," Tonks marveled. "Hard to believe for a screw up like yourself."

"I'll kill that damn rat yet, just you wait."

Sure enough, Prewett was leading an expanded group of students in jumping stars as the three approached.

"Wotcher, Charlie!" Tonks called, waving across the pitch.

The man jerked his head around, saw who it was, nodded, and returned to his exercises. Tonks noted that Hermione, Hannah, Lavender, Ginny, and the two Greengrass girls were absent. She wondered absently if perhaps the other girls had known their friends were werewolves and were off to comfort them. She dismissed the notion, deciding they were probably just visiting them in the hospital wing. Daphne and Astoria had probably been miserable yesterday too.

"Take over for me, Harry," Prewett ordered when the group neared, and Harry stepped up and started calling out the exercises.

"Alastor. Tonks. Black. What can I do for you this morning?"

"We need to have a talk, Charles," Moody said. He gave Black a pointed look. "A private talk."

"OK, OK," Black said. "I'm knackered anyway."

"Is your pal Lupin about?" Tonks said hopefully. She rather fancied the tall, handsome man, though she hadn't told anyone about it.

"He's ill," Black said immediately. "But I'm sure he'll be right as rain tomorrow. Good night. Or Good morning."

Tonks filed that bit of information away for later. Ill the same day as the Greengrass girls. He'd been ill two months ago when they'd been going over lesson plans. Had that been during the full moon as well? And hadn't he canceled plans with Moody to go over what he'd covered last month, saying he had business to attend to elsewhere? That had been on the full moon, that's when the girls had been bitten. Curiouser and curiouser.

Once they were a bit away from the exercising students, Moody turned to Charlie. "I think some of your friends paid a visit to the Bones family home last night in Stratford-Upon-Avon. Why?"

Prewett seemed genuinely bemused, and shrugged. "I don't know. I don't really have any idea what you're talking about."

"He means your buddies in Sport and Social," Tonks said, keeping her wand loose in its arm holster. "What were they doing at a magical families home?"

"I'm not with the regiment anymore. I'm retired. They don't exactly have a mailing list of their activities, you know."

Moody's eye spun about as his real one skewered Charles. "Tom McAllister was able to waltz right through some of the most powerful non-lethal antimuggle wards in Britain. How did he do it?"

"The Colonel is a determined man. I've never had a problem with the wards, and I'm basically a muggle you know."

Tonks rolled her eyes. "You're not a muggle, you're a squib. The wards would recognize the magical blood. Tom McAllister hasn't got any."

"Well he is Harry's father. Maybe the wards recognized that."

"They bloody well wouldn't have and I think you know that," Moody growled. "I know you're up to something, Prewett. Your hiring was too pat. I told Dumbledore so at the time, but he said Snape had checked you and that you were fine. I don't trust that greasy git as far as I could throw him, which with my bad back isn't very far. So his word means nothing to me."

Prewetts eyes narrowed. "Well, Moody, I think perhaps you should trust the headmaster. I'll swear whatever kind of oath you like that I'm here for the good of the students, and that their safety and wellbeing trumps all concerns in my mind. "

"Notice that you didn't say you were here to work for the headmaster," Tonks observed. "Or that you mean well for the school."

"That goes without saying."

"I find that what goes unsaid means far more that whatever passes a man's lips," Moody said, his magical eye scanning Prewett up and down. "And you did come to the school with an awful lot of hardware for a man that doesn't work for the muggle military anymore."

"Those items are all personal possessions acquired over a long career. Some of them illegally perhaps, but you'd have a devil of a time proving that in a wizarding court, and I know you're not going to drag this in front of a norm judge."

"You talk like McAllister and his pals," Tonks said suddenly. "Calling wizards maggies and muggles norms. Bit weird, isn't it, that only you and those sprogs talk like that?"

"I must have picked it up from them," Charles said, but he blinked when he said it.

 _Gotcha,_ Tonks thought.

"Or perhaps, McAllister and his lot picked it up from hanging out with SAS operatives who knew more than they should have," Tonks said.

It happened so fast, Tonks wasn't even sure she saw it later. In a flash, a knife appeared in Prewett's hands, and she was spun around with the tip of it pressed against her neck. Moody's wand was somehow in Prewett's hands, and the old auror was coughing for breath on the ground.

"Bloody buggering hell. Always knew opsec would be breached by something stupid. Kids and their slang. Damn. Never going to live that one down. Don't even think of using your metamorphmagus abilities to try to get out of this one, Tonks. I like you, so I'd hate to have to hurt you. I meant what I said. I'm here for the safety of the students. So you two are going to let me extract them, and then we can sort this out later." Charles swore low and with such skill and verve Tonks forgot to be scared and was a little impressed. She'd hung with Charlie Weasley and his mates, and they could teach lessons to garden gnomes, but they were amateurs compared to this man.

"Why were your mates hunting Fenrir Greyback?" Moody wheezed, finally standing up. "Why were they risking exposure to save a magical child, one of your maggies?"

"Because unlike you sods, my mates and I will never stand idle if we can help save the life of an innocent. We got word that the bugger was out after maggie kids last month after he bit the Greengrass girls. So we mobilized. The lads must have caught up with him right around the time he transformed and went after the Bones boy. He was on the likely targets list, what with his big sister being mates with Harry and all. We think that's why he went after Daphne and her kid sister."

"You know they're werewolves?" Tonks said, shocked. "So are you going to kill them too?"

"Bloody maggies and their bloody prejudices. Of course we're not! They're kids, innocent. Being a werewolf is like having AIDS. You take good care of yourself and make sure you don't muck about when you can spread your illness and everything's fine. Hell, Lupin's a bloody werewolf and it's not like I'm going to try and kill him; he's a good man."

 _Oh bugger, I'm fond of a bloody werewolf. But does that really matter?_

Moody was eyeing Prewett with a calculating expression now, his magical eye fixed on the man. "So, you're just after the bad ones, eh? What about You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters?"

"He pops up again, and we'll take care of him," Prewett said. "If you lot don't wipe all our minds and let the whole country go down the sodding toilet. You know how many died last time, Moody? Because I don't. I know an awful lot of my mates did though. Old Sergeant Yates bit it in a death eater attack. He tried to fight them off too, but you wiped Lieutenant McMillan and Major West's minds, and for years they thought they killed him when they got into a row while drunk. You know McMillan committed suicide before we could get a therapist who was cleared to help him? Major West's still around, but he's a broken man now."

"McMillan committed suicide?" Moody asked, his voice hoarse. "Bloody hell. He fought… he fought well. Saved a lot of women and kids he did."

"And now you want it all to happen again. So, are you going to let me and the kids go or not?"

"Wot's all this, then? Charlie, why ya got that knife at Tonks' neck there? And what are ya doin' with Alastor's wand?"

"He was showing us a disarming technique, Hagrid," Moody said before Prewett could react. "Nothing to worry about. Go make sure the kids are still safe."

"Oh. Thought I heard a fight and some yellin' and all. You sure it's alright, then?"

Prewett let Tonks go. She whirled around, standing beside Moody and letting her wand fall into her hands.

"We're fine, Hagrid. Go check on the kids."

"Right then. Sorry ta bother ya."

The three stared silently at each other for a long moment as Hagrid's footsteps faded away. Finally, Tonks couldn't stand it. "What the bloody hell was that about, boss?" Tonks demanded.

Moody was silent, his magical eye roaming aimlessly, his real one glazed over. Tonks pointed her wand at Prewett. "And you! You broke the bloody Statute! You told the muggles! You could destroy our whole world!"

"Or save it."

Tonks started, and looked at Moody before snapping her gaze back to Prewett. "What?"

"I lost a lot of friends in the last war, Tonks. Lieutenant McMillan and Major West…they saved Old Grady Abbott's life and John Dawlish's miserable hide. They just had guns, old farm rifles, and their wits, and they'd already held off the death eaters for 20 minutes. That's how Sergeant Yate's bought it. A whole church full of innocent muggles, and those three old soldiers against a dozen of the vilest Death Eaters. Then when we showed up, they didn't stand in awe of our magic, they didn't complain, the major said to me, 'You look like you're the chap in charge. How are we going to beat those devils out there?' And then he bloody well charged into danger with a knife in one hand and his single shot rifle in the other. He should have died. But he only lost an arm. Said it was a fair trade, even when I wiped his memory."

Moody took a shuddering breath. "If we'd had more men like that, maybe more of my mates would have lived. Maybe James and Lily would have lived. I don't know. But I only hunt dark wizards, not men who do the same job as me."

"But...but boss, they're muggles. They aren't supposed to know."

"And why the bloody hell not?" Prewett demanded, rolling his shoulders and glaring at Tonks. "Is it because not having magic makes you simple? Makes you dangerous? Because the mundane world treated me a damned sight better than the magical world ever did. People acted like I was the freak, just because I happened to be a squib. You'll also note that there have not been an awful lot of witch hunts in Britain in the last two hundred years or so, and rather a lot of muggle hunting going on."

Tonks couldn't really argue with that. She'd had to clean up after a muggle hunt not to long ago, and they'd never even caught the perpetrators. The murder was bad enough, but the teenaged daughter and wife had clearly been raped before they'd been slaughtered like animals. And of course, the DMLE didn't devote much resources to solving the case, not when it was likely You-Know-Who was out there somewhere.

"This doesn't seem right though, boss," Tonks said, half pleadingly.

"Use your bloody head girl. Even if we went and told Director Bones or the Minister, what would happen? Who's the bloody Chief Warlock? Who's the Minister? And which bitch is Special Undersecretary to the Minister?"

Tonks thought about it, keeping her wand trained on Prewett. "Crouch heads the Wizengamot. He'd have a bloody cow he would. Take away everything from the war effort and start wiping minds left and right, set back muggle relations 100 years, and maybe even pass that stupid law that would mirror the idiocy that the Americans have where you can't even talk to muggles or something. Fudge would panic and let Umbridge and Malfoy have a field day; we'd have muggleborns being stripped from their families and raised in wizarding households, treated like servants or second class citizens."

"And all the while You-Know-Who would be using the fear and panic to recruit more followers, to grow strong while the Ministry wastes itself fighting against the muggles. It would be worse than even the darkest days during the last war." Moody spat in the dirt, grimacing. "I'd rather work with Sport and Social than against them. Even if it's under the table."

"But the Director will need suspects. She'll want to know who was at her brother's home last night."

Prewett nodded. "I can get you that, I think. As long as you don't question the boys too thoroughly, I imagine they have a cover story all in place. Maybe a training exercise, or a few blokes out hunting."

"In Stratford-Upon-Avon?" Tonks said, incredulous.

Moody chuckled. "They're muggles, remember. Even Director Bones will just figure they're mad, have us wipe their memories, and send them on their way. As long as no one was bitten, that is."

"We've the silver and dittany if they were," Prewett said, waving that away. "And have them smuggled off somewhere safe. Don't need them disappearing or getting hunted for sport."

Tonks flinched. Werewolf hunts did happen, though they were forbidden and rare. The thought of something like that happening to Daphne and Astoria, or even Remus….

"Alright. I'll keep silent. But I'm bloody well writing the whole thing up and putting in my personal vault to be opened if something happens to me, so don't think of trying to disappear me either."

Moody gave Tonks a look of approval at her announcement, and nodded. "I do the same with all my case files. I will go forward with this if I even suspect Sport and Social has added ordinary wizards to their hit list."

Prewett nodded, then sheathed his knife and held out Moody's wand. "A truce then, for now."

Moody took the wand, then suddenly punched Prewett in those nose. Backpeddling, Prewett reached for his knife, glaring at Moody. The auror grinned, shaking his hand. "Oh, don't worry, I'm not going back on my promise. That was just for threatening my recruit. I'm rather fond of her."

"You olb bastarb," Prewett chuckled, wiping the blood from his nose. "I'b better go bix dis."

"I'll do it," Tonks said, stepping forward and waving her wand over the nose. She smiled and winked at Prewett. "No hard feelings, eh? I understand being willing to do anything for the sprogs. Give my love to Remus for me, will you? Tell him I'm sorry I missed him while he was ill, but I don't hold the illness against him."

Prewett rubbed his mended nose, then nodded. "Alright."

As Tonks and Moody headed back to the entrance, she eyed her mentor. "Are we really going to not investigate this further? We didn't swear an oath or anything you know."

"If Prewett was willing to use immediate violence to extract the kids, consequences be damned, then it means that whoever is in charge is willing to use violence to protect their interests as well," Moody growled. "It would be suicide to pick a fight with the muggles while we've got another war brewing. Let's finish one fight before we tackle another, or we'll end up like Jerry did in the 40s, crushed between giants."

"But once we stop Darth Stupidus, then we take on the muggles?" Tonks prompted.

Moody snorted. "Damned if I know. I'm bloody well retiring after this war. Three in one lifetime is enough for me. It will be up to the kids like you to decide what the new world will be like."

Tonks nodded, thinking of Harry and his pals. Were they brainwashed, or had the muggles really been kind enough to warrant going over to them? What about their parents? She pursed her lips. Seemed as if she had some investigating to do. Wasn't Bill Weasley back in England? That might be a good place to start. She'd unearth this conspiracy, and then decide where her loyalties lay. One thing was for certain though: No one was hurting her sprogs.


	40. Chapter 39

_Chapter 39: Someone to Lean On_

Cornelius Fudge was not, perhaps, a genius. He had become Minister for Magic not because he was the most qualified man for the job, nor because he was even the second or third, but because he was the one who was most willing to do whatever it took to become the Minister for Magic. His career previously had been in the department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, and while some might have said it was a poor position to train you for the Leader of the Magical World, Fudge could not help but feel at this moment it had been a rather fortuitous position.

"You're quite certain you found the muggles responsible for the attack on the Bone's homestead?" Fudge said, rubbing his forehead as he stared down Mad Eye and his insufferable trainee, who on her way into his office had managed to knock over his bust of Priscilla Dupont and shatter it on the ground. She'd mended it, but now Dupont's nose didn't look quite right.

"I told you before Minister, it wasn't the bloody muggles that attacked Ashley and his family, it was Greyback. The muggles thought it was a rabid dog and tried to kill it with their guns," Moody growled.

"Now, now, Alastor. We have only the word of the muggles that they were not in league with the filthy creature. After all, such brutish beings must attract one another, mustn't they?" Delore's smile was sweet, but her eyes glared daggers at the two aurors.

Fudge nodded his agreement. "Yes, most irregular that you simply modified their memories on the stop yourself. Shouldn't you have called in the obliviators to take care of the situation? I think they should be brought in for further questioning."

"That's bollocks," the irritating trainee declared. "We're perfectly capable of modifying a few memories, and we had to act fast. Those muggles were basically fellow aurors, policeman, you know, and it would be a terribly impolite to muck them up too bad for just trying to do their bloody jobs. Besides, we modified their memories. Now they really do think it was a rabid dog they drove off."

"Young lady, I will not tolerate such language here in the minister's office," Delores said sweetly. "Really, one wonders if you are truly cut out for this job."

Moody's eye spun about, glaring at Umbridge and Fudge in turn. "She did her job, and she did it right. If it wasn't for our swift action, the muggle police would have had a report on file on one of their computer things that would have had pictures of the funny looking dog and the magic they saw at the Bone's place."

"Well I still don't like it," Fudge declared, sounding petulant. "Muggles keep breaking into magical places that are warded against them. First that muggle at Hogwarts, now these two policemen. Something isn't right."

"No, something very much isn't right. Sorry I'm late, Minister, I came as soon as I could." Barty Crouch strode into the room, nodding at the two Aurors. "Alastor. Nymphadora. You both did excellently. I take it that the muggles are sufficiently obviated so that we will not soon have a repeat of this incident?"

"Well, so long as none of them spot another werewolf out and about, sir. And please, it's Tonks."

"Ah, yes, Trainee Tonks. Well, very good. Why don't the two of you head back down to Director Bone's office so I can discuss things with the Minister and his Special Undersecretary?"

Fudge bristled at being undercut by Crouch in front of underlings, but he held his tongue until the two were out. "What's this about, Barty?" he barked, glaring at the Chief Warlock.

"We need to take harsher measures in regards to the muggles and dark creatures, and we need to do it now. Such an insecure situation is something that You-Know-Who would take advantage of in a heartbeat," Crouch said, sitting down on a couch uninvited.

"That was a lone terrorist attack!" Fudge snarled. "There was no proof-"

"Either way, it was a dark wizard. And dark wizards outside of Azkaban is something I cannot abide. I've taken the liberty of drawing up new legislation giving you special authority to deputise individuals to directly intervene in the case of any further muggle incursions, and ideas for funding a new section of the office of Muggle Affairs that would focus on finding and rooting out suspected muggle interference into our world."

At the words "special authority" and "funding" Fudge's anger at Crouch evaporated. Power and money were two of Fudges favorite thing, and he quickly decided that Crouch was trying to repay him for the debt he owed the Minister. "Why, that sounds like a capital idea, Barty. When do you plan on introducing this legislation?"

"Well, with your help, I was thinking we could move forward with this during the November session. It will take some crafty political maneuvering on your part, but I think with effort we could get it passed by spring."

Rubbing his hands eagerly, Fudge nodded. "Yes, why don't you help us look this over, Delores? You always have the best ideas for dealing with muggles. Perhaps we should call in Lucius to look this over as well?" Crouch's features stiffened, and Crouch quickly realized his error. "Perhaps when we're done. He's been most generous with his funding of late."

"Yes, well, perhaps wringing a few more galleons out of that wretch to aide a noble cause would be a worthy effort," Crouch allowed, still looking agitated at the mention of Malfoy. Still, he relaxed soon enough, and Fudge couldn't help but think gleefully of how he could play Crouch off of Lucius. They'd both want this legislation passed, but both would want the credit. If he did it right, the whole thing could come off as the Minister playing the Hero and brokering a deal between the Wizengamot's two chief rival factions. He couldn't wait.

/\\\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

For the rest of September, Harry and his godfather stalked past each other in the corridors, neither of them willing to be the bigger man and apologize for their harsh words, both convinced of their own self righteousness. In the case of Harry, this was perhaps understandable, as he was a twelve year old boy with all the dreadful social skills that come from being that age. In the case of one Sirius Orion Black, it was less so.

While the man did have the excuse of having a rather miserable childhood himself and having spent most of his adult life being constantly tortured, his childish behavior was starting to wear on Dumbledore. Finally, after the man started snapping at Harry's friends as well, Dumbledore decided things simply would not resolve themselves in good time, and did the sensible thing.

He talked to McGonagall.

"Minerva, do you have a moment?" Dumbledore said, poking his long nose into the classroom one Tuesday evening. To his surprise, he found seven students, all of them normally properly behaved young women, with the possible exception of Luna Lovegood but she was a sweet girl, in detention with the Head of Gryffindor.

Minerva started upon seeing Dumbledore, and even briefly looked slightly guilty. That was a most interesting development: Minerva hardly ever did anything worthy of looking guilty about, and even more rarely acted properly abashed when she had done so. "I'm afraid I have these young ladies for another hour, Headmaster, but after that I am free. Unless it's urgent, in which case they could always finish their detentions tomorrow."

Instead of protests of innocence or against the unfair treatment of having to serve two detentions, the girls all were hastily covering whatever they had been doing, and generally acting as though they had been caught doing something they rather ought not to be doing. Interesting. Dumbledore resolved to learn more about whatever it was his Deputy Headmistress was up to on Tuesday nights. Hadn't she been supervising rather a lot of detentions on Tuesdays lately? Dumbledore had in fact, not been paying attention, being rather preoccupied with some developments from Slughorn relating to the phylactery locked in his desk.

"No, nothing urgent, it can wait. I must say though, it is rather unusual to see Mrs. Granger in detention. I had rather thought you would have learned your lesson after your incident in the potions lab and your detentions with Professor Snape."

"Oh, you know me Professor. Just can't keep myself out of trouble," Hermione said, flushing and looking nervous.

That was rather the opposite of the character of this particular young lady in Dumbledore's opinion. He personally thought she'd been pressured into acting foolishly by your young male friends. He could believe that Ginny Weasley had strayed down the path of folly as she was related to her brothers who had between them racked up a most impressive record of misbehavior that had not been seen since Sirius Black and his three friends had run amok all those years ago. But Hannah Abbott? Lavender Brown? The Greengrass sister? Not likely that they would willingly get up the sort behavior that would warrant multiple detentions. Curiouser and Curiouser.

"Very well then, I do hope that our young ladies have all learned their lesson and will keep upon the straight and narrow from now on."

There was a murmur of agreement from the girls, though they all still looked exceedingly guilty, save for Luna Lovegood, who instead was smiling at Dumbledore as if he'd happened upon a rather excellent joke, but could not see the punchline. He beamed at the young Ravenclaw and winked at her, then shut the door and returned to his office.

About an hour and a half later, McGonagall entered the headmaster's office. She was rather more composed now, her usual stern and proper self. "What was it you wanted to speak to me about, Albus?"

Sighing, Dumbledore put down the report from his sources at the ministry, detailing what Crouch and Fudge were up to. While he could agree that muggle security needed to be tightened, the rather draconian methods proposed would only serve to drive a wedge between the two worlds. Putting a moratorium on marriage of muggles pending a ministry investigation into their lives was going rather to far towards the American ideal of constant mistrust and paranoia for Dumbledore's liking.

"I am afraid one of your lions has been behaving rather badly, Minerva, and I want your help getting them back in hand."

Minerva sighed. "Which Weasley was it, and what did they manage to do this time? Turning half the school into canaries was bad enough, even if it did wear off and it was a rather neat trick of transfiguration on those creams. Normally I wouldn't even suspect Percival, but ever since he lost his Prefect badge he's been nearly as bad as those twin poltergeists masquerading as students."

"I'm delighted to report that it was not, in fact, a member of the Weasley clan who is the guilty party this time. And before you ask, it's not young Harry either. It's Sirius."

"Well of course it's serious if you called me in, Albus," Minerva said.

For the life of him, Dumbledore couldn't be certain that she wasn't making a rather excellent pun, but he could find no hint of a smile on her face. "Black, Minerva. Sirius Black. He's been sulking around his godson and generally souring their entire relationship. If we are ever to properly bring young Harry into our world fully, it is essential that he develop deep familial bonds with his magical kin, and Sirius Black is the best hope for that."

"Albus, if you really want young McAllister to develop familial bonds in the magical world, wait a few years and convince him that marriage contracts are more than just a cheap romance novel plot device and get one of the young witches he associates with to slip him a drop of love potion when she presents him with a forgery. I'd suggest one of the Greengrass girls or young Ginevra, or possibly even young Susan or Hannah, as they all have sufficient magical heritage to fulfill your requirements."

Dumbledore blinked. That was, perhaps, not the direction he would have taken. As female relationships had never held the allure for him that they did other wizards and as the most deep and satisfying relationships he'd had had always been with other men, he'd looked to Sirius as the easiest and most natural relationship for Harry. He paused, mulling over the suggestion and wondering which family might be most open to using their daughter as bait for the first Boy-Who-Lived.

"Oh good God Albus, you are actually taking that seriously? You might actually be as senile as your detractors claim."

Dumbledore smiled bemusedly at his most imposing and insightful transfiguration professor. "I confess, Minerva, as such relationships had never had any appeal for me, I had not considered the effect that a romance would have for young Harry."

"The boy is twelve, Albus. The only effect it would have on him now is the kind of idiot puppy love that fades like the morning mists. As for Black, the man never really grew up nor had the chance to. I did my best, but between his harpy of a mother and the betrayal and death of two of his closest friends, it's incredible the man is as emotionally mature as he is, even if that level of maturity seems to be between that of a 6th or 7th year."

"Be that as it may, Sirius is still our best hope of giving Harry a meaningful relationship rooted in the magical world that will allow him to become willing to fight for it when the time is right."

Throwing her hands up in the air, McGonagall cried, "For heaven's sake Albus, what do you think the entire point of his little group of friends is? He's gathered a cadre of the most talented and bright young witches and wizards together and is helping to train them all to be ready for the damn fool crusade against You-Know-Who! I know he's a threat, but really, with Barty Crouch as the chief Warlock you'd think that perhaps the battle against Dark Wizards is in more capable hands than a group of students."

"I would be inclined to agree with you, were it not for extenuating circumstances," Dumbledore said carefully. "I think, perhaps, that Barty will buy us much needed time, but in the end it will be up to the Boy-Who-Lived to defeat the Dark Lord once and for all."

McGonagall's eyebrows nearly climbed right off of her forehead. "Extenuating circumstances? And, pray tell, which Boy-Who-Lived do you speak of? Longbottom or McAllister, because according to the Daily Prophet both are equally likely candidates depending on which sensationalist headline they think will sell the most papers."

"I confess I do not know for certain which it is. Let us simply say that at this particular juncture, I am simply keeping my options open. Please, Minerva. You are the only real mother Sirius ever knew. Talk to him. Help him see reason, see that he has to be an adult, see that if he doesn't reconcile with Harry, he'll lose his last real link with James Potter."

Sighing, McGonagall nodded. "I'll talk to him, Albus, but not for your sake or that of your schemes as well intended as they may be. I'll do it because he was once one of my little lions, and because it will be best for him and McAllister both."

"Thank you, Minerva. And by the way, I took a moment to review the detention logs you submitted with Mr. Prewett. It seems those young ladies have been rather badly behaved of late, doesn't it? Do you think perhaps intervention from myself would be beneficial?"

"I have the situation well in hand, thank you. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to start cleaning up the messes you left before you find more that need resolving. Good night."

When McGonagall had gone, Dumbledore sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. Ever since last Christmas, the staff had taken to questioning him and his motives far more than they had before. At times he appreciated it: their questions could be insightful and they found flaws in plans that previously may have slipped by. At other times though, it was frustrating not to have the wholehearted devotion of Hogwarts as he had in years past.

Still, he wasn't headmaster for nothing, and now Dumbledore had a new mystery to unwrinkle. Just what was McGonagall's little coven of witches up to?

/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/

When Moody had been the chief of Hogwarts security, his office had been one of cluttered paranoia. Sneakerscopes, protective runes, various potions and other tools of the auror trade had filled the room, along with dozens of magical and mundane sensors. He'd even had a geiger counter that he occasionally patrolled with to see if there were any potential radiation leaks.

The office of Sirius Black, on the other hand, was surprisingly neat and tidy. Not because Black himself actually gave a damn about neatness, but because unlike Moody he didn't set up a dozen traps that were the bane of the Hogwarts House elves to the point they'd refused to even attempt to clean the room. There were several boxes and potions, though instead of being a part of security mania, they would have made Moody swear and even Tonks groan with frustration. The boxes contained fireworks, potions that could change hair, and several exploding snap decks that were dangerously close to turning the fireworks into an inferno.

That was not to say that Black did not take his job seriously. It was, after all, his name. Unlike Moody though, Black relied heavily on his hidden animagus talent to literally sniff out trouble, along with an impressive set of alarms and wards he'd rigged up with Lupin, and his two newest partners in crime: Gred and Feorge Weasley, as they referred to themselves. And unless he was in his animagus form, Black for the life of him could not tell the two apart.

"Alright, Gred, who was-"

"I'm Forge. Siriusly, you can't even tell us apart after all this time?"

"Fine, Forge, who was-"

"Just kidding, I am Gred, he's Forge."

"I'm going to turn one of your eyebrows green and then he'll be Gred! Anyway, who was using the passage behind Gregory the Smarmy?"

"Couple of Sixth year Slytherin looking for a good place to snog. We cleared them out alright, the lady had a fear of cockroaches and we animated a few clusters to keep them out."

"Good, I thought they smelled like students. And you've made sure that the Whomping Willow passage is secure?"

"Yep. Anyone who tries to get in there is going to get turned into a newt and shot into the lake. Don't worry though, it only lasts five minutes."

"Hmm. What color newt?"

"Neon pink! Wanted it to be easy to spot. Oh, and it turns their hair the same color for 24 hours so you can find the plonkers easy enough."

"Good good. And how is your copy of the map coming?"

"See for yourself!" The twins took out a piece of parchment and placed it on the table.

Black tapped it with his wand, intoning, "I solemly swear I am up to no good." Nothing happened.

The twins grinned cheekily. "Really old man-"

"-you'd think we'd use a tired old password?"

"We're creative enough to come up with our own."

"So go on, see if you can guess it."

"Hmmm." Black rubbed his chin, considering the map. He tapped it again. "I promise to misuse this map."

"Oh, good one."

"Not as good as what we came up with of course."

Black tried a few more times, then grunted and shrugged. "Alright, point, you win this round."

The twins tapped the map together, saying in unison, "Prepare for trouble, and make it double." The map immediately sprang to life, multicolored ink flowing as the map unfolded into a paper replica of the castle, where inkblot people with their names above them populated the corridors and grounds. Above the castle, smokey words appeared: The Wonder Twins Present: Hogwarts, in full Color.

"Hey, a rhyming password. Nice, another point for style for that banner. Oh and twenty points to Gryffindor each for managing to get it in color."

"Thanks!"

"Couldn't have managed it without your tutelage for a few more years I think."

"Not bad work for only six weeks," Black mused. He stood and walked around the map. As he did so, it refolded itself to show different parts of the castle, parts of it folding back to show here people were when Sirius leaned in. "Ok, not bad at all. How did you manage it?"

"Well, we're not taking Ancient runes for nothing, you know," Gred said.

Forge nodded. "Yeah, look at the ink with this," handing over a magnifying glass.

Sirius took it, peering at the castle. He whistled softly as he did so. "Those are a lot of very complicated runes. How'd you manage it?"

"Well, Percy helped us, actually."

"Yeah, he's got ancient runes and muggle studies."

"Dab hand with the runes too, helped us with some of the combinations."

"Couldn't have gotten it to come out in color without him."

"Well, him and Harry's sister, Becky."

"Yep. She sent us a muggle printer."

"Charmed it so it printed the whole parchment in colored runes."

"Bloody brilliant, that muggle printer. Very precise."

Sirius' eye twitched at the mention of Harry's sister. "Harry's...sister?"

"A right fit bird that one," Forge observed.

"So, his adoptive sister then. Not his real one."

Gred raised an eyebrow. "Mate, you'd best be careful saying that around Harry."

"Or Becky. She'd have your bollocks in a flash."

"I seriously doubt a muggle girl could pose much of a threat," Black growled.

"We thought that too."

"Until she wrestled us."

"Not a euphemism by the way."

"Wand or no, she's bloody strong."

"And fast."

"Whatever. I don't care. The map is good. Go test it out, and keep an eye on Snivellus. I haven't given up on giving his hair a makeover."

"Right you are chief!" the twins departed, scampering away as Professor McGonagall entered, glaring at them.

"Aunt Minnie! Come in, come in, you haven't visited my office yet!" Sirius said, grinning broadly and coming forward with his arms spread wide.

To his shock, instead of scolding him, his old head of house scooped Sirus up in a tight embrace. "I don't think I've ever told you before, Sirius, but I am proud of you. You've managed to do well for yourself."

"I-um, thank you." Sirius wasn't sure what to do. He'd not actually intended to hug McGonagall, rather expecting to be swatted at or told off. Instead, now he found himself unable to pull away from her grip.

Releasing Black, McGonagall stepped back to look Sirius in the eye. They were close to the same height, so she didn't have to tilt her head back much to do so. "You've had a poor hand dealt to you in life. Practically disowned by your family, betrayed by your friend, and imprisoned wrongly for so long. But you've turned out alright, and even managed to make something of yourself. You've done well, Sirius."

"Thanks," Sirius said, feeling a lump forming in his throat. This had turned suddenly and strangely emotional.

"Have a seat, Sirius. Nipsey!" A house elf popped up, bowing and wringing it's hands.

"Yes mistress McGoggles?"

"Tea, please, Nipsey. And biscuits, I think."

"Of course." The elf vanished with a pop, then reappeared with a tray of tea and biscuits.

Black blinked, staring at the tray that had been set on his desk. "What's all this about?"

"It's time you and I had a heart to heart, Sirius. Please, have a seat."

Obediently, Sirius sat, feeling slightly bewildered and not realizing he was following orders in his own office. He accepted a cup of tea from McGonagall, one with two sugars and cream. He sipped it and nibbled a biscuit, trying to figure out what was going on and just how he felt about it. He really did think of her as Aunt Minnie, and she had always been the closest thing to a mother figure in his life. Though Black would never admit it out loud, he did sorely miss any sort of motherly affection, and now that he was getting it Sirius was completely lost.

"First, how have you been, Sirius? I know you stayed with Remus after your trial, and it seems to have done wonders for the both of you."

"Oh, well, that was quite good actually. Moony was a bit mopey at first, blaming himself for me being in Azkaban and all, but once we bet the living hell out of each other when we got drunk one night he got right over it."

Though she said nothing, Sirius was certain that McGonagall had just thought "men" so loudly the room was practically echoing with it. "So, anyway, after that I helped him with a furry little problem of his-"

"You mean by that his lycanthropy?"

Blinking, Black tried to figure out what McGonagall was doing, but she merely sipped her tea. He cleared his throat and continued. "Yeah, that. Plus, once he got the job here at Hogwarts he improved a lot. I thought for a bit there I was going to have to hire him as my estate's executor or something just to give him a job to do. He's not had much work you know, and I guess that affected him."

"Not everyone is the heir to a vast wealth and fortune with a summer home in Italy, Sirius. The prejudice against werewolves affected Remus greatly, both when he was younger and later in life. Having a friend who doesn't judge him and stands by him means the world to him."

"I suppose. I admit since it's never really bothered me I don't give the whole werewolf thing much thought. How long have you known about that, anyway?"

"Ever since he was scheduled to attend Hogwarts of course."

A niggling worry arose at the back of Sirius' mind, but he pushed it aside, and McGonagall continued, "I can't know everything about my students and what happens Sirius. I didn't know just how bad you had it at home until you ran away. But I am trying my damndest. And one thing I know right now is just how lonely you are, and how much it hurts you that the son of James Potter, your best friend, has so utterly rejected you."

Jolting upright, Black managed to slosh tea all over himself. He started to swear, then realized who he was taking his tea with. Flushing, he got out his wand and vanished the mess. All the while, Aunt Minnie sat there, calmly sipping her tea. As he did so, he spoke without meeting her eyes. "Those muggles have done wrong by Harry. Abused him or something. He's turned his back on the Potter name. You know the one reason I didn't completely reject the name of Black? Because it would have hurt my magic so badly to reject my blood. Still affected me a bit I think, though now that I'm properly the last of the Black's I suppose it's all come back, though I was too far gone at the time to notice. Probably saved my life."

"Harry's magic is weaker then one would expect," McGonagall allowed. "But you know, no one ever sat him down and told him that, and in the end that was a major mistake on our part. He's really a muggleborn, yet we've acted as though he's been raised as a wizard so often."

"James and Lily were no muggles!" Sirius growled, his hackles rising.

"But Tom and Alice McAllister are. And like it or not, they are Harry's parents. They've raised him, loved him, and been there for him all his life. He's scared and confused Sirius, can't you see it? He desperately wants to know more about James and Lily, wants to try to honor their memory, but he also doesn't want to reject the man and woman who raised him and who he loves with all his heart."

Sirius blinked. He should have known all this, Remus had said it a hundred times. But to hear it from Aunt Minnie...it was somehow different. Like hearing it from his own mother. Only a mother who actually loved him instead of considering him a stain on the family tree. "It just hurts. To see James' sacrifice tossed aside like that, to see him reject his heritage…."

Aunt Minnie leaned forward, putting her hand atop Sirius'. "Though it does not excuse her behavior in the slightest, perhaps now you understand some of the bitterness and anger Walburga felt when you were sorted into Gryffindor and rejected all of the history of your own family."

"Ow." Sirius looked down, feeling deeply ashamed. "You're saying I've been acting like dear old mum."

"In some ways. Unlike her, however, I think you really do love Harry deep down, and that you're trying to act in his own self interest. You're just so hurt and abused yourself you don't know how."

"I have dreams, you know," Sirius whispered. "Dreams about Azkaban. About seeing James and Lily, dead on the floor. Of Harry, crying alone in his crib. Of the times my mother beat me and locked me away. I just...the best time of my life was my time here, with James. I want that back. I feel like it was stolen from me. From both of us."

"You're not a child any longer, Sirius. Your little pranks go too far sometimes. You have a job to do, and you can do a fine job of it. Honor James' memory by keeping his son safe. Support him. Talk about quidditch, tell him about his father, be respectful of his muggle parents. Harry can grow to love you, you know. Build new dreams, ones that can chase away the nightmares of your past."

Swallowing, Sirius nodded. With a trembling hand, he picked up his now cool cup of tea and drained it. "Alright. I'll try. I'll try to be a better godfather." Then he gave Aunt Minnie his very best puppy dog look. "But do I really have to give up the pranks? Gred and Feorge are so promising…."

"Well, just be warned that turnabout is fair play." Aunt Minnie rose, giving Sirius another quick squeeze. "I must be going now, I've papers to grade and other business. But know that my office door is open to more than just students."

"Thanks, Aunt Minnie. I mean it."

Once she'd gone, Sirius leaned back in his chair, fighting back tears. His life really hadn't turned out as he'd thought it would, not in the slightest. But he'd soldier on somehow. "I'll do it for you, James. And for your son. Somehow, there has to be something worth living for still."


	41. Chapter 40

_Chapter 40: Hard News_

There was a strangled sob, and then the room was silent. Hermione's eyes were slightly red, and she had her arm around Lavender, who looked particularly devastated. "It can't be true," Parvati whispered. Lavender nodded briskly, sniffing audibly.

"Oh, it's true alright," Harry said, nodding.

There was a collection of groans. Professor Lupin sighed. "Look, I'm sure you're all terribly devastated that the incredibly famous and handsome Gilderoy Lockhart is nothing but a fraud, but based upon what you've learned in my class, the timeline that Mr. McAllister and his sister very helpfully provided, and my own testimony as an expert on Dark Creatures, you must face the facts: Not only are the techniques Mr. Lockhart claims to have used to defeat these dark creatures either inadvisable, impossible, or insane, the timelines simply do not add up. He couldn't have spent his year with the Yeti and managed to gad with ghouls: there's two months of overlap. Not to mention it's highly unlikely he could have defeated the banshee, suffered the injuries he claims to have, then a fortnight later destroyed the vampire."

"Hermione, Professor Lupin is wrong, isn't he?" Lavender begged.

With a heavy sigh, Hermione shook her head. "No, I don't think he is. I didn't want to admit it to myself, but all his points are entirely correct."

"Oh will you lot grow up?" Daphne said loudly from the Slytherin section. Her face was flushed not with tears, but with anger. "Lockhart's nothing but a vainglorious twit who managed to bribe or blackmail a lot of people into letting him take credit for his acts. After the werewolf attack near my village I did some reading, and it is simply impossible that a homorphus charm could have successfully driven away a werewolf. It doesn't work like that! I hope none of you are ever stupid enough to try it if you ever actually encounter a werewolf."

"Well what would you recommend, Greengrass?" Pansy demanded. "Seduce it? Maybe if your hair wasn't so lanky that might work."

"Her hair isn't lanky!" Lavender half shrieked. "It's lovely, she's just-" Lavender cut herself off, and simply glared at Pansy, who sneered back alongside Millicent, who held up a lock of hair and turned it blonde briefly with her wand, then made a face.

"For your information, I would use the silver javelin curse," Daphne said, ignoring the taunts. "It's powerful magic tied to the full moon that can drive off a werewolf easily. That, or transfigure any living plant material nearby to wolfsbane, as suggested in the book by Professor Lupin he put out two years ago!"

"As if a second year like you could manage those spells, Greengrass," Draco taunted.

Blaise snorted. "You'd make a fine mess if it if you tried, Malfoy."

"Enough!" Professor Lupin said, glaring at the students. "Daphne is correct on the best methods to drive off a werewolf. However, this lesson is not on werewolves, as those are not covered until fourth year."

"I think we should cover them now," Daphne said firmly.

Hermione sucked in her breath. What was Daphne doing?

"The full moon is in a week, and we all saw the broadsheets put out by the Ministry: Fenrir Greyback is on the hunt. We should all know how to defend ourselves."

Professor Lupin blinked, giving Daphne a long, silent look. "Are you sure about that, Miss Greengrass?"

"We should all be as safe as we can on the night of the full moon," Daphne insisted. "If we take the proper steps, werewolves would not be dangerous."

"Just stay in your dorm then if you're so scared," Pansy taunted. "You'll be safe enough there."

"I will consider the matter," Professor Lupin said. "There are some basic precautions against werewolves that are easy enough to take that will help keep you safe. That's all we have for today. As homework, I want you all to come up with at least one way Professor Lockhart could have defeated each of the monsters in his books."

Hermione began to pack up her books, but saw Harry, Ron, and Neville giggling to themselves and hastily scribbling on parchment. Pursing her lips, she looked over at Neville's. On it was written:

 _Ghoul: Shoot it with a gun._

 _Banshee: Shoot it with a gun._

 _Werewolf: Shoot it with a big gun._

 _Hag: Shoot it with a gun._

 _Troll: Give it a nice scrubbing, then shoot it with a gun._

 _Vampire: Shoot it with a gun._

 _Yeti: Shoot it with a bigger gun._

"You can't turn this in you know," she hissed, glaring at the three boys.

Neville shrugged. "We know that, but it's funny because it would work."

"What would work?" Professor Lupin said, coming over to the boys. All three jumped and tried to cover their parchment. "Accio parchment." Neville's parchment slipped right out from under his fingers and into the professor's hands. All the boys paled, and Hermione groaned and closed her eyes.

"Hmm. Actually, aside from the vampire and the banshee, these are all correct. I'll give you time to revise and go into just how a muggle weapon could be used, but yes, a muggle gun would indeed kill or drive off these creatures I believe. In the case of some of them, that might even be more efficient than using magic."

Hermione's eyes flew open. "What?" she sputtered, thinking that her idiot friends had managed to blow their secret wide open with a stupid joke.

"It's true. Magical creatures are not inherently immune to muggle weapons. In fact, many texts suggest using swords or torches against many creatures. Those are somewhat antiquated muggle weapons however, and you might have an easier time using a bullet." Lupin itched absently at his thigh and winced. "Been shot at myself with a gun once. That was unpleasant."

Hermione sucked in her breath. That must have been when he was transformed into a werewolf. She hoped Lupin and the person who shot him hadn't been too badly injured.

"Why were you shot sir?" Harry asked, looking interested.

"I accidentally trespassed on a farmer's land while looking for some dark creatures and he winged me," Lupin said, waving a hand in dismissal. "I must have scared him. You'd all best be off though, it's nearly lunch and I'm famished."

The group of four trooped out into the hall, where Harry suddenly stiffened. Sirius Black was waiting up against the wall, looking slightly nervous.

"Harry, can we talk?"

"We're talking now," Harry said, his voice even, but Hermione could see the tension in his shoulders.

Black hesitated, but then sighhed. "Very well. I was wondering if you and perhaps your father would like to join Remus and myself this Halloween. We're planning on visiting your parents graves."

Harry's face paled, then flushed. He shifted uneasily on his feet, and glanced at his friends. "I'll think about it. Let me write home and see what my dad thinks."

At mention of Harry's father, Black fairly bristled, but after a moment he nodded. "That's fair enough. Let me know. I'll make arrangements with the headmaster for us to go."

With that, Black turned and walked away, leaving behind a rather disturbed looking Harry.

"Do you think it's a trap?" Ron wondered aloud.

"I think that he's trying very hard to be pleasant to Harry," Hermione declared, glaring at Ron. "The man wasn't right in the head for a very long time. Maybe he's finally coming to his senses. This time he actually asked for Mr. McAllister to be there, which is very sensible I think."

"Maybe," Harry agreed, still looking upset. "It's just...I do want to go, I think, but I also don't. Does that make any sense?"

"It's how I feel every time I visit my parents," Neville admitted. "Half delighted I'll get to see them, half afraid of what I'll see, and completely nauseated about the whole thing."

"Maybe you should come then," Harry said, looking down at his empty hands as if physically weighing his options.

Neville put an arm around Harry's shoulder. "Any time. Maybe Gran could come as well. I wouldn't mind paying my respects to your parents."

"Thanks, Nev. I appreciate it."

They made their way to the Great Hall, and Hermione wondered what it all meant. This year was very confusing: was Black a villain, or a wounded hero? She was breaking the rules to be an animagus, but it was the right thing to do, wasn't it? And all the while, in the back of her mind, Hermione fretted about her parents and their safety. Out there somewhere was a dark lord and a killer werewolf. She was doing the best she could, but at times it nearly drove her to tears. She was only 13. How could she make a real difference?

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

 _Dear Dad,_

 _Sirius asked me today if the two of us wanted to go with him to my parents graves on Halloween. He's been trying to be nicer lately I think. Hermione says that after all his time in Azkaban he wasn't right in the head. I think she might be right, but I still don't like Black. Professor Lupin would be there as well, and I've asked Neville and Madam Longbottom to come as well._

 _I don't know how I feal about this. I do want to honor my birth parents and visiting their graves would be a good way to do it I think. But I don't want to turn my back on you or mum either._

 _If you think we should go, I will. If not, that might be for the best. Maybe we can go alone sometime._

 _Love, Harry_

Tom McAllister sighed, and leaned heavily on the table. He did not look his usual hale and hearty self. His head was now bald, he having shaved it once his hair started to fall out due to the chemotherapy. He felt weak, and was having a great deal of trouble keeping food down, which was also sapping his strength. He was not up to confronting Sirius Black, and he knew it. He was also not up to telling his son that he was dying.

"Alice, what am I going to do?" Tom said hoarsely. "I want Harry to go. Mending fences with Black is a good idea. But...but I'm just not up to it. I don't want Harry to know. Not yet. Let it wait until Christmas when we can come together as a family. Having that shock while Black was there...I couldn't do that."

"Well, I think the solution is obvious Tommy," Alice said, pouring her husband a cup of tea. He looked at her, confused, and she smiled. "Does Harry have only one parent?"

Chuckling, Tom picked up his cuppa and sipped. "I suppose not. I could always say I was busy with my work; it's true enough. And I imagine you're formidable enough to keep that git Black on his toes."

Alice gave her husband a wan smile, and rested her hand atop his own. "Harry needs know, love. You have to tell him. Especially since he's already lost one set of parents."

Tom let out a heavy sigh. "The doctors say I still have a chance. It's a slim one, but the cancer has retreated a bit, and it hasn't metastasized. Let's wait until we have better news. It tore Becky up when I told her, you know. She's seen it too, every day she looks at me and it makes the both of us want to cry. It's just been so sudden in the last six weeks…"

"I'll be there for Harry," Alice promised. "He can handle it, Tom. He'll have to. Maybe with the magical treatments we've been exploring…"

Tom nodded reluctantly. None of their recruits were exceptional magical healers, but they'd all done what they could. So far, no magical remedies had worked. Privately, Tom doubted they would. His cancer had come about as a result from the lodestone pills. Since they were anti-magical in nature, it only made sense that magic would prove ineffective against their after effects.

"I'll write Harry and let him know, Halloween is only a few weeks away. Then I think I'll lie down for a bit before my therapy this afternoon."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Harry shivered slightly, glancing up at the sky spotted with clouds. It was just after lunch and still fairly warm, but he felt a chill nonetheless, perhaps because of the company he was with. On his right walked professor Lupin, who looked as though he was trying to project cheer as he talked animatedly. On Harry's left strode the reason that Lupin was trying so hard to be cheerful: Sirius was in a Black mood. He looked as though he'd not slept the night before, with dark circles under his eyes, along with a thousand yard stare Harry's had seen his father gain on Remembrance Day or at funerals.

"So Harry, have you used the floo network before?" Lupin asked, his tone deliberately jolly.

"No, but Neville told me all about it."

Neville nodded, keeping pace beside professor Lupin. "Yeah. You just toss some powder in and say the name. Godric's Hollow, in this case."

"Good, good. You're certain Mrs. McAllister and Madam Longbottom will meet us there?"

"Certain," the boys chorused.

Black said nothing, only keeping pace with the group as he stared off into the abyss.

They arrived in Hogsmeade at the Two Broomsticks, stepping inside to use the fireplace. While Hogwarts did have several fireplaces hooked up to the network, Remus had suggested that they walk to Hogsmeade first, as they could all do with the exercise. Harry thought that he'd just thought it might cheer Sirius up a bit to go for a walk.

After speaking the name, Harry stepped into the fire and emerged inside of an old church building. The fireplace was locked in a hidden room, with an old caretaker who smiled at him toothless. "Well, well, I thought we'd see you here someday m'boy. Harry Potter, come home at last."

"It's McAllister," Harry said automatically, shaking the old man's extended hand.

The old wizard blinked in surprize. "Changed your name? But why? After what your parents did for you-and the effect on your magic!"

"Because my parents are alive and well, thank you. I'm here to honor my birth parents sacrifice, but I have a new life and family now. Excuse me."

Harry stepped away as the old man muttered under his breath, going to stand beside Neville. Black was glaring at him from across the room, having overheard Harry's conversation. "How do we get out of here?" He asked. "I want to see my mum."

"This way. I've been here before."

Neville lead Harry out of the hidden room to the church's garden, where Madam Longbottom and Harry's mother were waiting. Without saying a word, Harry walked up to his mum and hugged her tight, resting his head against her side and not speaking.

In turn, his mother stroked his hair, feeling her heart constrict as she felt the sadness inside of her son. She swallowed, thinking of the terrible secret they were hiding. Since Harry had written, Tom had gotten worse. He was weakening rapidly, and for the first time in her marriage Alice actually saw the spectre of death hanging over her husband. She knew he was in a risky business, that at any time during his long military career he could have been killed in anything from a training exercise to an actual combat mission, but this was different. Those had taken place far away in places Alice had never seen. This disease was wasting her husband away before her very eyes. But all she could do was kiss the top of her son's hair, and murmur to him that it was all going to be OK.

"Alice. Augusta." Remus had come into the garden, Black behind him. Black only nodded, looking like death warmed over. Alice half wondered if Snape had dosed the man with the poison he'd claimed to have created.

Together, they walked silently down the street. To Harry's surprize, several obviously magical groups were already walking around with those in mundane Halloween costumes. "Is everyone being so blatant because it's Halloween?" Harry asked Neville as they passed a group in long robes and wizarding hats. One woman even had her wand out.

"Oh, it's just Godric's Hollow," Neville explained. "It's a mixed village, but it's one of the oldest wizarding communities in England. A lot of norms here are clued in, some are even married into magical families. Plus, it's Harry Potter day. Though I suppose no one told you about that. Lots of people come to visit Godric's Hollow today, to pay their respects."

"The anniversary of my birth parents deaths would be some sort of stupid holiday," Harry grumbled.

"They're honoring the sacrifice your parents made, and celebrating You-Know-Who's defeat," Lupin said. "I struggled with it for years too Harry, but it's really just their way of showing gratitude."

"Makes them look like a bunch of pillocks if you ask me," Black growled. For once, Harry found himself agreeing with his godfather.

They arrived at the cemetery, where a small crowd of people were gathered. There were whispers as Harry's group moved forward, but thankfully anyone who might have wanted to come speak with Harry took one look at Sirius' expression and decided that perhaps Harry wanted some peace.

When the war memorial changed into a stone statue, Harry gasped and rocked back on his heels. There were his birth parents, James and Lily. In their arms a babe in swaddling clothes. Harry. Him. His mother put her arm around him. "What is it, Harry?"

"Can you see the statues?" he asked, pointing to the statue of his birth parents and his infant self. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Did you take your medicine?"

Pursing her lips, Alice shook her head firmly. "No. I'm afraid I didn't, and I can't see any statues save for some old grave stones. What do you see?"

"You young couple, sitting on a bench with a baby in their arms. The man...he looks like me a bit I think. They're both smiling at the baby. They look happy."

"Having you was the happiest day of James' life," Sirius said gruffly, coming to stand beside Harry. "They loved you with all their hearts, you know. And yet you turned your back on them."

Harry glared at Black, but before anyone could say anything a loud slap echoed through the cemetery. Sirius stepped back, holding a hand to his cheek and looking at Alice with a stunned expression. "How dare you!" she snarled, shoving Harry behind her. "My son has struggled all his life with his identity. Do you know what the hardest day of my life was? It wasn't the first time I sent my new husband off to war, or when my mother died of a heart attack, or my father of grief six months later. No, it was the night I had to tell my son he was adopted. I respect what the Potter's did, I understand it. If the choice was myself or my children, I would choose my children every time. But we raised Harry, and now he's a world that rejects the very people who loved and cared for him for as long as he can recall. You don't he hasn't noticed that what you maggies think of those with non-magical parents, or what you think of norms in general?"

"Some of you like Dumbledore claim to believe that we're all people, that we're all equal, but you don't act like it. In wizarding court, you could take Harry away from us at any time! He lives in fear of it, I've seen it! And at the same time he wants to love his birth parents, he wants to respect their sacrifice, but he's afraid if he does we'll take it as the same rejection that every other witch and wizard seem to display for norms! So don't tell my son he turned his back on your world. Your world did a bloody good job of turning it's back on HIS."

There were murmurs from the surrounding crowd, until Augusta Longbottom drew her wand. "Harry and his family are having a private moment at the memorial. I suggest that you lot clear off. Now."

When Remus Lupin drew his own wand and moved to stand beside Augusta, the crowd took the hint and departed. Neville glanced at Harry, who was standing alone, looking stunned. Uncertain, Neville went to stand beside Harry silently, resting an arm on his friend's shoulder.

Rubbing his cheek, Black glared back at Alice. "I never turned my back on my godson! I was ready to die for him! I would have, if I hadn't been so fearful of my own lineage that I refused to become James and Lily's secret keeper! You don't think I know what it's like to face rejection? I spent my whole life getting beaten and spat on by my family because they hated my guts from the moment I was sorted into Gryffindor. But James and Lily were there for me. They stood by me in my darkest hour. They were good people, the best. But to see their son turn his back on a family that truly loved him, to reject me, when I'm the last real family he has, it's too much!" Black started to cry silently, sinking to his knees and gazing longingly at the smiling stone visage of the Potters.

"It's too much, damn it all. I got out of that prison, but I never really left. What's left in the world for me? Marlene is dead, the only woman who I ever truly wanted, James is dead, the brother I never had, and my godson want's nothing to do with me. It's hopeless."

Making a choice, Harry walked over and sat down beside Black. "What were they like?"

Black blinked, looking over blearily at Harry through his tears. "Pardon?"

Tucking his arms in close, Harry gazed up at the faces of the family he could not remember. "My parents. What were they like? Professor Snape's told me a bit about Lily...I mean, my mother...but…"

"I met James on the Hogwarts express. I hadn't had a happy childhood, but my parents had tried to raise me to be the scion of the Black family. James was the heir to the Potters. We were supposed to be enemies; like you and Draco. But... but James gave me a chance. 'Well, I won't judge you on your name if you won't judge me on mine.' That's what he said to me. I told him fair enough." Black glanced at Harry, grimacing. "I suppose I've judged you just a bit on your name, come to think of it."

"Then we were sorted into Gryffindor. I was the first Black in generations to be sorted anywhere but Slytherin, at least until Andi came along and got put into Hufflepuff, but she was from another minor branch of the family, and I was the heir. At home I was miserable: my mother hated me, and my father was a weak man. Even my brother who had once looked up to me didn't want to be seen with me. But at school...at school I had James. He was the one who made friends with Remus and Peter, not me. We got along like a house on fire. We did everything together, played pranks, go the same marks, even chased the same witches. Of course, James did get Lily in the end. Good on him though."

They sat there together for half an hour, Sirius pouring out his heart about his dead best friend and brother. Remus stood quietly behind them with Alice, while Neville sat on the stones beside Harry. Augusta kept watch, keeping away the well wishers.

"He's a good man," Remus told Alice quietly as Sirius talked. "He's just a bit...broken. I am his friend, his last living one anyway, but we were never as close as he and James were. When James died, something inside Sirius died as well."

Alice sighed and nodded. "I understand. I've seen it too often with Tom. A lot of his friends when he was younger have died. He had a best mate, an officer who went through a lot with him, Edgar Morris. Morris was killed before Rebecca was born in some black mission that Tom never talked about. They still had a quiet funeral though. For a long time, I wondered if my husband would be able to get through it, but then we had a child and I nearly died, and he came back to me."

"Sirius was dating Marlene McKinnon. She was killed a year or so before the war ended. He was pretty broken up about her death. Used to be a bit of a skirt chaser, but ever since then...and with James dead and him in prison for a few years...he's not well. But he sees Harry as his last link to James."

"Harry isn't James Potter," Alice said firmly. "He's my son as well."

Remus nodded. "I understand." When Alice looked at him questioningly, Remus gave her a thin smile. "I understand being the child of two worlds better than you know perhaps. Of having secrets and not knowing where your loyalties truly lie. It wasn't until I grew up that I really figured it out. I hope Harry can do so sooner than I did."

After Sirius' story was done, he and Remus stepped away where Black could quietly have a good long cry. "Thanks for coming with me, Neville." Harry said.

Neville smiled. "I think you already said that, but I understand. Maybe...maybe sometime you can come and see my parents."

"I'd like that."

Neville nodded, then stood and walked over to his Gran, sensing that Harry wanted to be left alone. Alice came to stand beside her son, gazing at the stone faces of the people who had given their lives so that her son could live.

"Mother, Father. This is my mum, Alice McAllister. I've got a sister and dad too, Becky and Tom. They...they love me very much. I think they did a good job, raising me." Harry sucked in a ragged breath, rising to stand beside his mother. "I don't know if you would approve. Of me trying to change things, trying to make it so magic doesn't have to be hidden anymore. I want to think you'd approve of it, that you'd tell me I did a good job or whatever, but I don't know."

"I just wanted to say...I love you, and I'll never forget you, but I have a new family now. And I love them and I want what's best for them. I have to be a hero, for everyone, not just magg-witches and wizards." Harry stood silently then, his head bowed.

"Thank you," Alice said quietly. "Thank you for letting me have such a wonderful son. Harry means the world for me. I like to think...I like to think that I'd make the same choice, the same choice you did, that Tom did, giving my life for Harry. I love him so much it hurts some times, as much as I love my daughter. He might not be my flesh and blood, but after all these years, I don't think it matters. You have a brave, wonderful, loving son. I'm honored that I had the chance to raise him."

They were quiet for a few more minutes, something tugging at the back of Harry's mind. Suddenly, his chest hurt, and Harry felt as though he'd swallowed a rock. "Mum, what did you mean about dad dying for me?"

Alice froze, and then tears began to fall as sobs wracked her body. She sank to her knees, trying to stop, but unable to as weeks of fear and tension flowed out from her, and she clung to her son desperately.

"Mum? Mum! Mum, what's going on!?"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Sirius stood rooted to the spot as he listened in horrified fascination. Tom McAlister was dying. Some muggle disease. Remus stood stock still beside him, his own face a mask of grief and horror.

A sudden dawning realization came over Black. This was his chance. If Tom died, he could have Harry. He could take him easily, and he'd be his. He'd have no father, and Sirius could be there, and Harry would be-

No. Sirius shook his head. No. That wasn't what James would have wanted. He jerked forward towards Harry, who was holding his grieving mother's head in his hands, tears rolling down his face as his eyes were wide with terror. He looked up as Sirius approached, and Sirius felt a pain deep within his bones as Harry flinched back. Sirius dropped to his knees, reaching out a hand to Harry.

"Harry...maybe I can help. My cousin's husband, Ted, he's a healer at Saint Mungos. Maybe...maybe they can cure your...your dad. Can cure Tom. I want...I want to help. Even if you never want anything to do with me again, I'm your godfather. I...I have to try."

The fear left Harry's eyes, replaced by hope. "Could you? Do you think…."

Sirius laughed. It was a ragged, desperate sound, but he laughed all the same. "Kid, I never think. I'm a Gryffindor."


	42. Chapter 41

_Chapter 41: Coming to Light_

"Hermione, why do you and Lavender have a leaf in your mouths?"

Hermione froze, glancing up at Lavender who was chewing her food just as carefully as she was, then over at Ginny whose spoon had frozen halfway to her lips, soup dribbling off the end.

"Is it a muggle thing?" Parvati demanded, trying to peer into Hermione's mouth. "The leaves, I mean."

"Oh, yes," Hermione said quickly, jerking her head up and down. "My parents, they're dentists you know. It's a new treatment. You keep this leaf in your mouth and it, um, it's supposed to make your teeth healthy."

Parvati frowned. "Well, why didn't you give me one?"

"Oh, but your teeth are already so lovely, Parvati," Lavender cooed, her tongue moving around the mandrake leaf to a more comfortable position. "My teeth, well, they're a bit yellow, and Hermione has those buck teeth of hers, and Ginny, well, you've seen her snaggletooth. Our parents won't let us try magical solutions so we're trying one of Hermione's muggle ones."

All three girls tried to smile convincingly, doing their best to hide the mandrake leaves in their cheeks. Parvati looked back and forth between them, obviously not believing their story. "Well, I suppose if you have to try a muggle method, they would be a bit odd. Perhaps I'll write cousin Kopula about it. He's a muggle doctor, maybe he'll know something."

"Oh, but he's a medical doctor, not a dentist. They're different you know," Ginny explained. "I don't think he'll know much about teeth."

Parvati's eyes narrowed. "Since when do you know so much about muggle doctors?"

"Um, Ron went to see one. A mind healer. To help him after, well, you know. Last Christmas?"

The suspicion left Parvati, and her eyes watered slightly. She glanced around at the Christmas decorations that had sprung up in the castle over the last few days. Tomorrow most of them would be leaving for the Christmas Holidays. Hermione, Ginny, Lavender, Luna, Daphne and Astoria had all somewhat suspiciously elected to say. Partially because of the mandrake leaves they were all carrying around like a bunch of cows chewing their cud.

And partially because the full moon that fell on January 8th.

"It's so sad, you know," Parvati whispered. "They should be going home with us. Going to see their parents. But instead…"

"But instead they're here, forever," Hermione said quietly, thinking of the memorial where Dean and Seamus' ashes were forever interred, along with fragments recovered from Madam Pomfrey.

"Do you think that could ever happen to us?" Lavender asked quietly, looking down into her own soup, her hair forming a barrier around her head.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Ginny said firmly. "That's why we're in the club."

"I suppose." Lavender sighed and looked up. "Still. Maybe Darth Stupidus isn't coming back, or won't be back for a long time."

"I hope so," Hermione said quietly. None of the girls really believed it though.

"Hey, Hermione, pass me those rolls," Harry called, nodding towards a basket. He seemed happier today; for the lost month and a half Harry had been varying degrees of moody since finding about about his father's illness. Hermione reached for a roll and tossed one to Harry.

"Good news?"

"First round of treatments at Saint Mungo's finished today," Harry said excitedly. "I should find out. Tonks' dad was optimistic."

"Well, I suppose that's good," Hermione said cautiously. Harry had been vacillating between sullen moodiness and hopeful excitement. He was also much more willing to talk to his godfather. Though he was still reluctant to participate in any pranks, he did seem to appreciate Black's attempts to "cheer him up."

As Harry bit into the roll, Hermione covered her mouth in shock. Hair began to grow out of Harry's ears, trailing down like vines. "Um, Harry…"

Harry looked up, the roll still in his mouth. "What?"

Ron, who was stilling next to Harry, suddenly spit out the roll he'd been chewing on. "Oh bloody hell, not again. Harry, check your ears."

Feeling the hair coming out, Harry rolled his eyes and glanced up at the head table, where Black was happily waving a roll in their direction. Snape, who had grown increasingly paranoid, was eating an omelet that the house elves had prepared especially for him, and drinking out of a hip flask while glaring at Black. He did not seem to notice that a small plant had sprouted out of the top of his head and was steadily gaining in height.

"What did your godfather do to Professor Snape now?" Hermione said, wondering just what the potions master would do when he finally noticed.

"Oh, that wasn't Padfoot," George, or possibly Fred, said.

His twin nodded. "Too right. We put enchanted seeds in the seat cushion on Snape's chair. We've been experimenting with plants that grow out of your body and convert cosmic radiation into glucose."

"Yeah. Might be dead useful on a long spaceflight."

"One problem though; we're not sure what cosmic radiation is."

"Still, we've gotten the plants to grow."

"We appreciate Snivellus' help in testing ever so much."

Hermione sniffed and turned her nose up. "Fred, George, you two do realize he is a Hogwarts professor? And that you have to spend detentions with him?"

"Yeah, but that's not until after the hols."

"We figure by then he'll have calmed down a bit."

Percy gave his brother an exasperated look, and next to him Penelope chuckled and shook her head. "You two do realize you're talking about the man who seems to have nursed a grudge against Black for the better part of 30 years?"

"We realize that Penny."

"That's why we'll be sure to blame Padfoot when it comes up."

"You two are hopeless," Percy muttered.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Hermione and the other girls spent most of the day in the library in a far corner, practicing their transfiguration skills, especially turning animals from one kind to another. Somehow, Luna had obtained a crate full of ferrets, which the group was trying to turn into various animals, usually ones that they fancied. Hermione had managed to turn her ferret into an otter, an ocelot, a raven, and a parakeet. The last ones feathers had been a bit furry and it might have had some teeth in its beak, but it hadn't been bad.

Luna, on the other hand, had turned her ferret into a wolpertinger, and was now working on a crumple horned snorkack.

"I'm pretty sure crumple horned snorkacks don't exist," Hermione told luna as she turned her ferret back.

Lavender, who was trying to turn her hedgehog back into a ferret, frowned up at Hermione. "You know, for someone who was born a muggle and discovered they were a real live witch just last year, you spend an awful lot of time not believing in things, Hermione."

Not having a really good response to that, Hermione just sniffed and studied her textbook, ready to turn her ferret into a gecko. Birds and lizards were naturally much harder to manage for a mammal, but she was certain she could manage it.

"To be fair, I think Hermione's probably right," Hannah said, studying her ferret that was half turned into a field mouse, and was trying to decide if it should eat itself. "At least I've never heard of a crumple horned snorkack except in the Quibbler."

"Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence," Luna declared happily, studying the strange hog like creature with a spiral horn and taloned feet she'd created.

"That sounds like rubbish," Astoria muttered, then recited the incantation and turned her ferret into a weasel.

"She's actually right. That's why I couldn't disprove the existence of God to my third year teacher," Hermione declared, picking her wand back up to her ferrets consternation.

"Why on earth would you want to disprove the existence of God?" Luna said, staring at Hermione with her too wide blue eyes. "That would take a great deal of fun out of life."

"Truth be told it was because I wanted to prove I was smarter than my teacher, who kept hinting that we should all come to service to 'Find Jesus.' I was a bit full of myself back then."

"Back then?" Daphne asked, smirking at her own ferret, which she'd manage to turn into a jackson's chameleon. Abet one with fuzz all over it's body.

Reciting the incantation, Hermione waved her wand and nodded, her ferret having turned into a large geck. However, instead of green it was still the brown of the ferret. Irritated, Hermione reversed the spell.

"Hermione is just very smart, and has a hard time remembering not everyone is as brilliant as she is," Lavender said, forestalling an argument between the two strong willed girls.

"What, you don't think we're smart?" Ginny demanded, glaring at Lavender. Her own ferret had grown spikes, but it was still mostly ferret.

Picking up her crumple horned snorkack, Luna petted it and smiled off into the distance. "We're all brilliant in our own ways; they're just different. Everyone knows your the best flier in our group, Ginny. And Lavender has a way of making everyone feel special. Astoria has a beautiful singing voice. Daphne always keeps a clear head no matter what happens. And Hannah is the hardest working"

"But what about you, Luna?" Lavender said. "You're special too."

"I think we all know that I'm the most special one of all," Luna declared, and turned her snorkack back into a ferret. "I wonder what a wrackspurt looks like?"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The last meeting by the Defense Club of the semester was not the same group as the first had been. All but Astoria of the first year Slytherins had dropped out after pressure from their house had finally caused them to disassociate themselves from Harry and his "lackeys" as most of the snakes referred to the Club. No new Ravenclaws had joined either, and Michael had also dropped out when the cold shoulder from the rest of his house had gotten to be too much for him. Padma, Anthony, and Luna were hanging in. Harry had a feeling though that Padma would have long ago abandoned the club if not for her sister, as being ignored by the other girls in her year seemed to really hurt her.

However, from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, several more students had joined. Cedric Diggory, a hufflepuff prefect, had brought along many of his friends from his year, citing the fact that the defense club members showed remarkable loyalty and lots of hard work. All the first year Hufflepuffs were attending now as well, and Leanne had made a comeback after a profuse apology. "It was just so hard; I didn't want to have to chose between my friends and my family. I'm really sorry."

Harry and the others had of course, accepted her back. Quite a few more Gryffindors had started to come as well, including Fred, George, and Lee Jordan. While some students had at first resented being trained by a bunch of students who were younger than they were, the effectiveness of Harry's methods was hard to deny. Not all of the students came out for the morning runs, though the original core group along with Ginny, Luna, Astoria and some of the hufflepuffs were faithful about it.

"Welcome to our last meeting before the hols," Harry said. "As you all know, today, we have a very special guest, back by popular demand, Auror Tonks!"

Everyone clapped wildly, and Tonks bowed and grinned at the assembled students. "Cheer loves, and thanks for having me back! Today, I'm going to be showing you some advanced auror techniques in a field a lot of you probably haven't considered: combat transfiguration."

"Now I know what you're thinking, what good is it to turn a hedgehog into a pincushion and chuck it at your foes? But really, transfiguration has a lot more combat utility than that. Can anyone think of how it could be used? Yes, Ron."

"When Darth Stupidus tried to kill me, Professor McGonagall transfigured a wall to block his killing curse. It knocked me back when she did, but it saved my life."

Tonks flinched at the reminder that some of her sprogs had actually seen combat. "Er, right, that's a good example. Transfiguring the terrain to form obstacles to hide behind is a good example, though maybe a bit high powered for what you're all ready for. Daphne?"

"You can fight off a werewolf by transfiguring wolfsbane. It won't have quite the same properties or be as effective, but it can by you time."

Once again, Tonks flinched. Her poor sprogs, wounded before their time. "Yes, you can do that, and the same goes for garlic against vampires or willow branches against a hag. Anything else? Ceddy?"

"Oi, if you're going to call me Ceddy I'm going to call you Nymph-"

"Oh fine, Cedric. No need to be rude."

Cedric grinned and winked. "Anyway, it's possible to transfigure yourself, like turning your arm into a bears and taking a swing at someone."

"Yeah you can do that alright, but honestly you'd be better off transfiguring something else into a proper weapon, which is one of the things we'll be doing today. Yes Padma?"

"I think the simplest would be to transfigure the terrain to be more advantageous to yourself, like turning the floor to ice beneath your foes, or transfiguring a hole in a wall to shoot at them from."

"Ah ha! Right you are, and that's the other thing we'll be working on. First though, I want you lot to look around the room. I've put various objects that you could conceivably find around you in a fight, like tree branches, rocks, some metal fencing, and clothes. Get into groups of two or three and try transfiguring them into a weapon or barrier or some sort that could help you in a fight."

The students broke up quickly, scattering around the defense classroom and working on transfiguring things. Tonks wandered over to a group of frustrated first year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. "I don't know enough to do anything really useful with this," a girl complained, holding up a stick.

"Could you sharpen it, maybe?" Tonks suggested. "Don't underestimate a good sharp stick to poke your foe with."

"Oh, yeah, I could do that easily!" the group quickly practiced making the stick into a sharpened stake, and Tonks gave them approving nods.

"I'd give points to Hufflepuff, but I can't anymore."

"Year of the Badger!" the first year 'puffs cheered.

Harry and Blaise were having a lot more success with theirs. They'd transfigured their metal fencing into respectable looking swords, though the edges were a bit dull. "Not bad," Tonks observed. "I'd not want to get poked with this."

"I think a gun or a grenade would be more useful," Harry mused. "But I'm just not good enough at transfiguration to try something that complicated yet."

"Wouldn't it be easier just to use our wands?" Blaise asked.

Tonks nodded. "Most of the time, yeah. But what if you banished the sword at your opponent, or were fighting something like a vampire that's mostly immune to the spells you know?"

"Hmm, good point," Blaise admitted. "Still, I think I'd probably be better off just running away."

Lupin came over to Tonks as the students work, smiling at her and causing her stomach to do a somersault. She still fancied the older man, but she hadn't confronted him about being a werewolf yet. She just didn't know how. "Excellent topic for the students to cover. I might have to crib some notes from you and have my Newt level students work on this alongside their non verbal magic. I remember James Potter was quite fond of transfiguration during combat."

"Oh, yes, well, it's in auror training you know," Tonks said, blushing a bit and trying not to. She felt her pink hair misbehaving itself and going mousy brown like Lupin's own, and her breasts behaving badly. Normally she kept her bust modest, but when Lupin was looking at her….

"Still, very good Tonks. I can see why the students were so fond of you as a teacher. Would you mind staying after for a bit? I could have the house elves send up dinner and we could talk about how you'd implement this for more advanced students."

"Oh, sure, that'd be lovely." Lupin smiled again and walked away, and Tonks tried to slow her heart down a bit. She glanced over at Harry, who had gone over to help some firsties now that he and Blaise had it down. That was another thing she really should get on. How much did Harry know? How deep did the muggle conspiracy go?

After practicing transfiguring objects, it was time to practice doing so with terrain. Ron immediately went for turning the top of the floor into a thin layer of grease. "Oh, nasty that," Tonks observed. "You'd fall right over."

"Yeah, but watch this! Incendio!" The greasy suddenly burned with a thick, greasy flame, causing smoke to fill the air and most of the students to cough.

" _Dolar vacuumus_!" Tonks sputtered, extinguishing the flames. "While that is a neat trick Ron, maybe not indoors?"

Ron deflated slightly, looking disappointed. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry about that."

"That smoke and fire would be an excellent distraction though," Tonks admitted. "Might have to try that myself sometime. Right then, I suppose it's time for the main event then!"

The students cheered as Professor Lupin stepped forward and came to the center of the classroom with Tonks. "Now I want you all to remember that this is just an exhibition duel. Neither Tonks nor I are actually attempting to kill each other," Lupin said, drawing his wand.

"Oi, best be careful Remus, I fight to win!" Tonks said, giving him a cheeky grin and kicking off her boots.

Harry stepped forward, motioning to the two fighters who bowed. "Fighters ready? Begin!"

Lupin started off slow, with several probing stunners and a leg bind curse. Tonks, on the other hand, transfigured the ground beneath their feet to ice, turned her own feet into something similar to a penguins flippers, and skated about the floor, firing off her own spells.

Lupin recovered quickly though, taking a moment to transfigure his boots into ice skates and dashing about as he countered Tonks' spells and tried to disarm her.

"Not playing for keeps are you?" Tonks taunted, then conjured a whip of flame and lashed it at Lupin.

His eyes widened, and he was forced to dive onto the ice to avoid the flame whip. Before Tonks could secure her victory though, Lupin shot a blasting curse at the ice under Tonks' feet. Shards flew up into her face, but instead of diving out of the way, she lunged forward straight onto the top of Lupin. He grunted in surprise, and using a move she'd seen Harry use on the other sprogs a dozen times, Tonks tried to get the bigger man into a submission hold.

Remus however, proved to be a lot stronger than she was, and soon had Tonks flipped over on her back, straddling her and trying to get his wand into her face to force a yield.

"Oh, Remus, perhaps we should save this for later when the kids aren't watching?" Tonks teased.

"I, um, er-" Remus stammered, losing his focus and nearly dropping his wand.

Laughing, Tonks blasted Remus off of her, then jumped up and pointed her wand at Remus' groin. "Didn't keep your focus, Professor," she purred.

"Winner, Auror Tonks!" Harry cried, and the students burst into applause.

Remus paled, then raised his hands in surrender. "I didn't, I mean I wasn't-"

"Too bad, it might have been fun," Tonks said, winking at the older man.

He blushed, and Tonks stood and offered him a hand. When Remus took it, she hauled him up and gave him a quick peck on the lips, causing Remus to go even more red and the students to go wild. The younger boys all made retching noises, while the girls sighed and cooed.

"We'll talk later," Tonks said, patting Remus on the cheek. She turned and bowed to the students. "And that concludes our demonstration kiddies! Hope your classes haven't been too boring with good old Professor Tonks in retirement!"

As they cleaned, Tonks motioned Harry over. "Harry, meet me down on the quidditch pitch half an hour after dinner. I want a word with you," Tonks instructed.

Harry nodded, glancing between Tonks and Lupin. "What's this about, ma'am?"

Tonks cuffed Harry upside the back of his head. "Don't you go ma'aming me! I'm only 19 you know."

Harry grinned and nodded, running off with his pals to play before dinner time. Tonks pursed her lips and frowned as he left, trying to think of just what she was going to say to the little sprog. "So, are you in on the muggle plot to assassinate You-Know-Who?" just didn't seem to be the best opening line.

The door closed, and Lupin coughed. "So, just what exactly was all that about, Auror Trainee Tonks? That seemed highly unprofessional."

Tonks blew a raspberry and summoned two chairs over. "I'm not a professor anymore and I'm off the clock. Relax, Remus. Just a bit of fun."

Remus frowned and sat. "Good, because I think it would be highly improper for our relationship to be anything but professional."

Tonks rolled her eyes, spinning her own chair around and resting her arms on the back. "Why? Because you're older than me? That hardly matters now does it? We're both mature, responsible adults. At least, I'm more mature and responsible than your friend Black. I hear he made a plant sprout from the top of Snape's head."

"Well, yes, that is true, but there are extenuating circumstances that you are unaware of."

"What, like you being a werewolf?" It slipped out before Tonks could stop herself. Mentally, she kicked herself. Stupid stupid stupid! She wasn't supposed to be talking about this, she was supposed to be checking on the sprogs and seeing if Daphne was getting on alright, not trying to snog Remus, even if he was very handsome.

For his part, Remus paled and stiffened. "What are you implying, Mrs. Tonks?"

"Oh come off it, Remus. Don't think I didn't know who that third werewolf was that the girls were running about with these past full moon was." Tonks was lying of course: she didn't know for a fact that Remus had been with Daphne and Astoria, though she supposed it was a fair enough bet.

Remus stood, knocking back his chair, his face suddenly grim. "Threatening me is one thing. Threatening the students is something I won't tolerate."

Tonks tapped her chin, looking up at Remus. "You know, I think you're even more handsome when you get angry."

Remus took a step forward and loomed over Tonks. He was very tall, and good at looming, Normally she would have appreciated that, but when she was the target of said loom it was a bit intimidating. "What. Are. You. Playing. At."

 _I'm scared and alone, and the only person who I can really talk to is a grumpy old man that treats me like his daughter most of the time?_ Tonks thought. "Well, I suppose I was going for flirtatious, but if you prefer hard to get I could try that instead."

Remus crouched down so he was at eye level with Tonks, is brown eyes lit with an inner fire. "You don't just tell a secret werewolf that you know they're a werewolf unless you're after something. Not to mention the Greengrass family is well known to historically frown on marriages like the one your parents have. So who are you trying to blackmail? Me, the girls, or both?"

"You're a great bloody idiot, you know?" Tonks said, smiling at Remus sadly. She reached out and tried to stroke his hair, but he flinched back.

"Stay away! If you know what I am, why would you-"

"I was the auror who rescued the girls, Remus," Tonks said gently, climbing up onto her chair and stretching her hand out in a pleading gesture. "When I saw their scars and yours, well, it wasn't hard to figure out who the Headmaster was having mind the girls on the full moon. I don't care if you are a werewolf, or that they are. I just want to know that the three of you are safe. Please, calm down."

Slowly, Remus reached out and took Tonks' hand, studying it as if it baffled him. "But we're monsters. Why would you-"

"Fancy a bloke? Typically because he's rather dishy, but in your case I would have to say it's because you're smart, sensible, and very loving towards the sprogs. You are of course, a well built man yourself. I noticed that last summer."

Remus frowned and dropped Tonks hand. "Is this some sort of game to you?"

With a squeak Tonks toppled forward, having lost her precarious balance. She found herself scooped up in Remus' strong arms, a startled expression on his face. Not able to think of a good answer, Tonks kissed Remus on the cheek. She smiled coyly at him. "Did that feel like a game?"

Remus' arms trembled, but he didn't drop her. "You don't know me. You can't possibly want me. This is some stupid school girl fancy because you read a bad muggle romance novel."

Tonks stood and blew another raspberry. "As if I'm the sort of girl to read those tawdry things and sigh over them! I read comic books, thank you very much. And you're much more well mannered than Wolverine ever was. If your only objection is that you've got a small furry problem once a month, you'll have to try better than that. I did date Charlie Weasley you know, and he was mad about dragons. Terrible table manners too."

Lupin stepped back, rubbing the back of his head. "I don't understand. You're practically a child, and I'm a worn out old pauper with no future. What brought this about?"

Tonks let her body change a bit, growing her curves in all the right places and planting her hands on her hips. "Do I look like a child to you?"

Remus swallowed, trying very hard to keep his eyes on her face and mostly failing. "Yes."

"Well, your friend down stairs says 'no.'"

Lupin flushed and sat back down in his chair. "I think this is going nowhere."

Tonks bit her lip and nodded, picking her chair back up and sitting across from Lupin as she morphed back. "Alright, then I have a more serious question for you. Have you noticed anything odd about Harry, Ron or Hermione? Possibly Neville too, I suppose but I don't think that's likely."

"What?" Remus blinked, his mind obviously struggling to switch over to the new topic of conversation. "Harry's perfectly normal. Well, I mean, not perfectly normal, but about what you'd expect from a boy raised with one foot in our world and another in the muggle world."

"He doesn't seem a bit mature to you? Seem like he's been trained just a bit too well to fight?" Tonks prompted.

Lupin frowned. "Well, I assume that the headmaster instructed you to teach him auror techniques and that perhaps his father had taught him some muggle methods once he found out You-Know-Who was after him."

"The Headmaster never told me anything like that," Tonks said softly. "Did you tell you that?"

"Well no, but I thought maybe he had you to pass it on. I was just told to teach all the students the best DADA lessons I could. The only students mentioned specifically to me were the Greengrass girls, and I'm sure you figured out why."

Tonks stood and started pacing her hair rapidly changing in color and length. It did that when she got nervous. "What does Dumbledore know? Surely he knows something is up, that has to be why he hired Prewett."

"Charles?" Remus was really confused now. "What does Charles have to do with this? You're behaving very oddly Tonks, did someone dose you with a perplexing potion?"

"I bloody well wish they had." She paused and looked at Lupin pleadingly. "Remus...tell me. If you knew that the statute of secrecy was breached, what would you do? Remember who the minister is, who the Chief Warlock is, and what political party is in control now."

Remus frowned. "Well, I mean, they'd be very hard on whoever broke the statue, that's for sure. And it might lead to that tougher anti-muggle legislation Malfoy is trying to ram through. But still, you'd have to report it, right? That would be the right thing to do."

"Would it?" Tonks whispered. She suddenly felt very small, and very afraid, and she sank back into her chair as her hair turned into blonde pigtails. "Remus, what if reporting that could lead to Harry's father getting obviated and maybe Harry getting expelled, or at the very least taken from his family?"

Now it was Remus' turn to go white. "Tom could never survive an oblivation, not in his state. And Harry...it would scar him for life to be taken away while his father is dying."

"Harry's dad is dying?" Tonks demanded. "But why? How? He seemed healthy enough last year, he's not even that old really, about the same age as my dad."

"Some muggle disease, but it's not responding to treatment, I'm not sure- Tonks, where are you going?"

"I have to talk to Harry," Tonks said firmly. "Thanks Remus, talking helped. I'll come by some time and we can chat again. Maybe somewhere a bit more romantic. Ever been to Madam Puddifoots?"

"Now listen here, we are not-" Remus broke off into a groan as Tonks grabbed him and planted a kiss firmly on his lips. His arms lowered, then wrapped around Tonks.

"You shouldn't have done that," Remus said, his voice hoarse.

Tonks winked at him. "If you really want me to stop, all you have to do is say no."

Remus said nothing, and Tonks turned and hurried out.

Harry met her on the pitch, his wand shining its light as he made his way onto the darkened grounds. "You wanted to speak to me professor."

"Yeah. Ditch the light, and put on these," Tonks muttered, handing Harry a pair of her custom sunglasses.

"But it's night, why would we wear sunglasses?" Harry protested.

"Because we're on a mission from God," Tonks hummed.

Despite his muggle upbringing, that sailed right over Harry's head, but he put on the sunglasses anyway. He let out a gasp of pleasure. "Wicked! These are like night vision goggles, except way better!"

"Yeah. got to talk to you about that too. Come on, this way."

Tonks led Harry towards the forest. "We're just going into the trees. Don't worry, I can fight off anything in here. You'll be fine."

"Sure, professor. Why are you so worried though?"

"Better question is, why aren't you more worried, Harry?"

That caused Harry to go quiet until Tonks deemed they were far enough in. She turned and flicked her wand at Harry's robe. "Accio gun."

A pistol sailed into her hands, and Harry squawked in alarm, bringing up his wand.

"Don't bother Harry. You couldn't take me with a wand on my worst day, and if you try any hand to hand on me you'll find out why no one wrestles a metamorphmagus." She looked the pistol over, having only the vaguest notion from movies on how to use it. With a heavy sigh she handed it back. "Figured you would have one of these on you. Your robes always bulged funny there. The headmaster know about that?"

"No," Harry said, looking up at Tonks, the stars reflecting off his sunglasses. "What's going on, Professor? Why'd you bring me out here."

"To talk. Harry, some awfully funny business is going on. I talked to Bill Weasley last month. He hinted he was assaulted by some muggle soldiers, but when I dug deeper he wouldn't mention it. I snuck around the Weasley's property and sure enough, two muggle soldiers were hiding in the woods. This past month, during the full moon a werewolf was driven away from the Abbott home. Not by aurors, though we had alarms up that he tripped, but by more muggle soldiers. You know anything about that?"

Harry froze, still holding his gun, though by the barrell. "No."

"Don't lie to me!" Tonks snapped. "You do, and I go forward with this information. Tell me the truth Harry, what is going on? Prewett said Sport and Social were having themselves a bit of a werewolf hunt, but why do they know about werewolves? Why do they have troops staked out at the homes of all your friends?"

Harry's mind raced, and he swallowed. "How long have you known?"

"Since September's full moon," Tonks said. "That's when Susan's home was attacked and muggles nearly killed Fenrir Greyback."

Harry muttered a few choice words he'd heard his father say on occasion.

"Oi, keep a civil tongue in your head young man. This is serious."

"Yeah, alright. Look, professor, how do you feel about purebloods?"

"Sod the lot of them," Tonks said instantly. "They're a bunch of loony old bastards that tried to cut my mum off just because she fancied my dad. And they started the last war just because they wanted more power."

"What about muggles?"

It was a long minute before Tonks replied. "I don't mind muggles. I'm not really afraid of them, most seem like alright sorts. But I'm an auror, Harry. I've sworn to uphold wizarding law."

"What's more important to you, Professor? Saving lives and doing the right thing, or following the law because it's your job?"

Tonks grumbled and kicked at the leaves beneath their feet, scattering frost and the light dusting of snow. "Doing the right thing. If the law said that I had to hunt down muggleborns and rip them from their mothers arms, I'd bloody well refuse that order. Even if it meant my career, or worse."

"Tonks, do you think the Ministry or the Headmaster can really beat Darth Stupidus this time around?"

"Bloody hell kid, I was supposed to be the one asking the questions." Tonks thought about it for a long while. "The ministry can't. It's half run by people more loyal to You-Know-Who than the rule of law. Even Fudge might bow to him if he thought it would help him stay in power, though I think he'd be more likely to run away in terror. The headmaster….I don't know. Twenty or even ten years ago, yeah, probably. But now...after what happened to those two kids and good old Poppy...I don't know."

"Would you bet your life or the lives of all the other students on him being able to beat Voldemort?"

Tonks flinched at Harry's use of the name, but she shook her head, unable to speak.

"I don't think so either. Neither does my dad. Nor does Her Majesty's government and armed forces."

"So they do know, then." Tonks closed her eyes, feeling as though her entire world was collapsing. "How much, and how long?"

"Basically, everything. They know all about the statue of secrecy, where the major magical institutions are, how magic works in broad terms, and what sort of shape the ministry is in and that Darth Stupidus is getting back. They've known at least since the last war. That's how my Uncle Bill died. Bill McAllister, that is."

Tonks opened her eyes, and saw Harry eying his gun. She felt her heart leap in her chest, but couldn't bring herself to raise her wand. She couldn't hurt one of her sprogs, not even if her life was in danger. Then, Harry tucked it away again.

"I couldn't shoot you, Professor. You're a good person. You want to help. Please, do the right thing. Either help us stop Darth Stupidus and make sure that all of the wizarding world is free, or have the common decency to stay out of our way." With that, Harry turned and started to walk away.

"What about werewolves?" Tonks called.

Harry stopped, then turned. "If you mean Greyback, I hope they kill him. He tried to get Ron and Ginny, and hurt someone near Daphne and Astoria's house. But if you mean werewolves in general, really, I think people overblow the whole thing. They're only messed up on the full moon, and with wolfsbane and some sense they're no danger to anyone. Goodnight, Professor." Harry took off the sunglasses and dropped them, lighting his wand and hiking back to the castle.

Tonks stood alone in the snow, shivering for a long time. She felt trapped, unsure of what to do. On the one hand, she was honor bound to report this breach of the statue to her superiors, especially considering how deep it truly went. This was a lot more than muggles trying to stop a dark creature: this was the entire foundation of the wizarding world being destroyed.

On the other hand…on the other hand, the only chance Daphne and Astoria and Remus would have for a normal life was if attitudes on werewolves changed. And perhaps the only chance Harry would have to survive, unless the Minister and Headmaster both started being a lot more competent.

The right thing. If only she could tell what it was. She raised her wand, wand with a crack, vanished. For now, she would hold her tongue.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/

 _Authors Note:_

 _Will you please stop messaging me about what ships this fic has now? Obviously Remus/Tonks is the main ship._

 _Well, maybe not, but no Harry shipping until he's at least 16._

 _(also Percy/Penny, I guess?)_


	43. Chapter 42

Chapter 42: The Price to be paid

The Christmas holidays had arrived, and the castle was mostly empty, save for seven girls who were spending an inordinate amount of time in "detention."

"The key to the animagus potion," Professor McGonagall was lecturing, "Is that you put into it something of your own essence. This ingredient is unique to each individual. It must be a part of who you are at a primal level. For myself, I placed within the potion an engraving of the great philosopher Plato, who I have eternally admired and sought to emulate in my own teaching methods. For some of you it could be an object from nature. For others, a bit of your own personal body, such as skin, hair, or even in some cases a tooth. It could be a treasured object, or a work of art that you create. Whatever it is, it is key that this object represent who you are, as it must imbue the potion with the animal you will become. Do not choose poorly, for if you do the potion will either fail, or give you an animal form you are wholly unsuited for. You must choose within 4 days, and place the ingredient in during the new moon."

Ginny moved her mandrake leaf about in her mouth and made a face. "I just want to get these stupid leaves out already."

"The leaves will not be ready until the 8th of January," McGonagall said, giving Ginny a pointed look. "Do not remove them from your mouths before then, or your entire efforts will be ruined."

"I know, it's just annoying," Ginny grumped. They'd already had the leaves in for 10 days, and it was grating on everyone's nerves. Still, they all thought it was worth it.

"Now, let us work on our self transfiguration again. This is a very key aspect of becoming an animagus. Though the potion will allow you to transform into a creature, without control you can become trapped in your animagus form until another witch comes along and frees you. This happened to Regina Gottwald in 1978, when the foolish girl turned into an albatross and flew away. She had to be rescued and transfigured back, and to this day she still is half bird in her mind."

Though Daphne and Astoria were not working on their own animagus potions,, they too practiced their self transfiguration skills. Neither of them showed as much progress and talent as their friends, and they were mostly there for solidarity.

"You're all lucky you get an animal that's a reflection of you," Daphne said, banging her hoove-hands together. "How do you use a wand once you've got hooves though?"

"With the wolfsbane it isn't so bad." Astoria examined her short dark hair in a hand mirror, frowned, and changed it back to its normal long blond coloration. "Wolves can be sort of pretty."

"I want to be something beautiful. A wolf might not be so bad, but truth be told I'm holding out for a bird," Lavender chirped, having turned her mouth into a beak.

"What animal you become is a reflection of who you are," McGonagall said.

The girls echoed back, "not something you simply fancy."

"Still, you did say that whatever we turn into it will be something we enjoy." Hermione examined herself, having turned her lower half into a goat's body. "I don't think I'd enjoy being a goat though. Maaa. Excuse me."

Luna let out a loud croak, having turned her head into a frog's. She shot out a long, sticky tongue and grabbed onto an inkwell, which shot across the room and splattered ink all over her moist skin.

"Miss Lovegood, do be more careful. You seem to have let your instincts take hold of you," Professor McGonagall said sternly.

With a wet, sucking sound, Luna turned back into an ink splattered girl. "Oh, no, I knew what I was doing. I just wanted to see what it would be like to grab onto something with my tongue. I've always wanted to do that."

McGonagall sighed and shook her head. "At least clean up your mess child." Privately she was very impressed with Luna's progress, but the girl was so unaware of her surroundings sometimes it was frightening. At least they were making good progress: by the time the spring storms arrived, they should be ready to complete their potions and become full fledged animagi.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

His students mostly gone for the hols, Dumbledore was catching up on his research. He'd received at long last several very interesting tomes from Slughorn. The man had been rather intractable at first, and it had taken Dumbledore calling in several favors from old pupils to bribe the old spider into finally coughing up the secrets of phylacteries that he knew. As he paged through the musty old book, Dumbledore paused. It was an ancient book, on created by wizards in meso-america well before the Columbian exchange. It was slow going, translating the book from it's original Mayan, which Dumbledore was not fluent in, but it had some unique insights.

The picture on this page showed a priest in a black jaguar skin hood with a wand, using a knife to slay a victim on a stone table. As he did so, yellow rays swirled from the priest into the knife. Success! It appeared he had found what he was searching for at last. Pulling out Slughorn's journals, he flipped to the page that referenced this diagram.

 _It appears that Mayan wizards also knew of the creation of horcruxes. Though their intention was not immortality as it was with ancient druidic rituals, but rather to bind their essence into ceremonial objects that they could then use to commune with their gods. As with the druidic rituals, a fragment of the priest's soul was siphoned off during the ritual slaughter of an innocent, and usually willing, victim. The soul piece was then stored in the specially prepared object, though occasionally a sacred animal would also be used._

Dumbledore felt his blood run cold. He'd read that name before in other books, but only as a reference to the darkest of black rituals. Horcrux. It took two more days but finally Dumbledore found what he was looking for in another book Slughorn had lent him. Translating the page of the journal of Bishop Geoffrey of Emrys from Old French took him hours but in the end he had it.

 _These heathens know not the light of Christ. They are led by craven and wizened elders who claim to have found eternal life through their own power. The elders take one of the muggles and bind them in a ritual circle. Then, a golden idol of one of their pagan gods is placed atop the poor wretch. Then, using a spell or blade, the life of the innocent is snuffed out. As the light of life fades, a weakness appears in the soul of the elder. They then slice off a bit of their own souls, placing it in the object. A kind of phylactery which they name horcrux. While the object remains, they cannot be killed in truth, lingering on as a spirit while their vessel remains._

The objects are protected by mighty spells, but it is possible to destroy them. Saint Patrick, hallowed be his memory, showed us the way. Using the venom of a basilisk, one may shatter the enchantments on the horcrux and free the soul fragment within. There are other ways as well: holy water blessed by a man of the True Faith with the gift, the breath of a Nurdu, and dragon fire. Even with the object destroyed, the owner must be once again slain or banished to finally send him to Holy Judgement. We must be wary however, for the most powerful elders possess as many as six of these vile relics.

Dumbledore sat back, stunned. Destroy the resurrection stone? It was one of the Deathly Hallows, an Elder Artifact, and matched to the wand he possessed. The cloak was also within his reach, but Dumbledore could never get it to respond well to him, not while it still owed loyalty to the Peverell bloodline. To become master over death, to have the power to bring the dead to life...was it worth the sacrifice?

The headmaster did not sleep well that night, or for many more, knowing that he possessed a fragment of the soul of his foe, and also knowing that it was likely that as many as five more such objects still existed. Once more, Dumbledore began to hunt, this time with a growing sense of urgency. However, by the time the term resumed, he had come up empty, with a few leads but no further horcruxes.

/\/\/\/\\\/\/\\\/\\\/\\\/\/\/\/\/

Pansy Parkinson was having a rotten Holiday. She'd need to stay at school because her stupid parents had decided to take a holiday for themselves in Spain, without her. Some rot about a second honeymoon. Her friends, or perhaps minions would be a more appropriate term, were all at home of course, leaving her alone.

Stupid Daphne and her sister were still here, but their friends were there as well, and Pansy wasn't dumb enough to try harassing them alone. That tended to end in her getting hexed, or worse, losing face. With no one who she could really bully and no friends to conspire with, Hogwarts was dreadfully boring. Pansy wandered about the castle and grounds, contemplating on how miserable her life was, and sulking during meals.

On the 8th, Pansy took no small measure of delight in seeing that Daphne and Astoria were ill again. They mopped about, groaning and moaning, and Pansy flounced around, showing how hale and hearty she felt. It wasn't much fun though, because of course at meal times, they had the support of their friends, and Pansy sat at the far end of the Slytherin table eating by herself.

She looked up at the head table, and saw Black commiserating with an obviously ill Remus Lupin. Odd. Hadn't he been sick at the same time as Daphne last go around? Pansy thought back, and realized he had. Weird.

That night, she was so bored she went for a stroll on the Hogwarts grounds, the light of the full moon clearly illuminating the snowy blanket the castle lay under. She was about to head down to the lake, when a large shape loomed out of the darkness.

"Not a good night fer yeh to be wanderin' about the grounds, missy. Best be gettin' back to the castle, now."

Pansy was about to make a retort, when she heard the distant sound of a wolf's howl. It was echoed by two more voices, and Pansy shivered, glancing at the full moon. "Fine," she growled, glaring at Hagrid as if it was his fault that werewolves roamed on the full moon.

She stalked back inside, feeling quite sorry for herself.

The next morning, Pansy noted that Daphne, Astoria, and Lupin were all absent from breakfast. Daphne hadn't come back that night either; it was especially obvious since Pansy was alone in the second year Slytherin girls dorm.

Pansy paused, a spoonful of porridge halfway to her mouth. Daphne had missed breakfast last month too. And not come back to her dorm. What day had it been...she couldn't quite remember. She glanced up at the head table. Lupin was gone too.

She blinked. Three howls last night.

Three people gone from breakfast.

Three werewolves in the castle.

A slow, wicked grin spread across Pansy's face. She didn't have proof. Not yet. But if she could find it, she might just uncover enough dirt to permanently remove Daphne (and her sister, but that was just a bonus) from the Slytherin social hierarchy, and tarnish McAllister and his stupid friends for all time.

Her Auntie Dolores would just love to hear about this….

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Harry sat in Saint Mungo's, his heart on the floor before him, crushed and pulverised as he looked into the grey face of the man he had called dad for his entire life.

"I'm sorry, Harry. We've done everything we can for your father. Whatever caused his cancer has some sort of anti-magical properties. The muggle treatments seem to be slowing its progress at least a little, but as far as what we can do here," Healer Ted Tonks, father of Professor Tonks, rested a hand on Harry's shoulder. "All we can do at this point is make him comfortable. He'll have the very best healing potions; even if they don't seem to be having the effect they should he at least won't be in pain."

"I've got more gold," Harry whispered. "If whatever Mr. Black is paying you isn't enough-"

The hand squeezed his shoulder. "It isn't a matter of gold. It's a matter of ability. It seems like your father was cursed with some very black magic, but we can find no magical signature to even begin to try to figure out what caused it. Even with the best magical researchers in the world working on this, we can do nothing."

Harry licked his lips, his mouth felt like a desert, and his eyes burned. "But the doctors at the hospital say he only has a few months to live."

"I have to agree with their assessment," Healer Tonks said quietly. "Your father is dying. We've tried to slow the progress of his disease, but we've bought him only a few short months. Maybe as much as a year. He'll be awake soon. Do you want to be alone when he does, or should I send for your mother and sister? They're with Mr. Longbottom and his parents. I already talked to them earlier about this."

"It's fine. I want to be alone. Just me and dad."

The door clicked shut, and Harry swallowed, the lump catching in his throat. Despite his years of combat training, the spells he'd worked so hard to master, this was a foe he could not defeat. Even his father, his strong, skilled father, had proven to be helpless before the spectre of cancer. There was nothing that could be done. All the best medical minds of both the mundane and magical world agreed: Tom McAllister was dying, and no one could stop it.

Tom stirred, his eyes opening slowly. He smiled at his son. "Got the news, have you?" His voice was soft, hard to hear, a far cry from its once deep, rich tenor.

Harry nodded, feeling his eyes burn once more. "Healer Tonks just confirmed what Dr. Mason told us last week. You've got a few months to a year at most."

"Well, I always knew the reaper would find me someday. Looks like it's going to be sooner rather than later." He laughed, a wheezing, wet laugh of the dying. "Thought it would be with a bullet in me in some god forsaken desert or bit of rock in the middle of the ocean, not like this."

Harry leaned forward, taking his father's hand in his own. "Dad, when you die, they'll try and take me away. I don't...I don't want to leave Becky and mum. I can't. I have to protect them."

Tom nodded slowly. "You'll be the man of the family, Harry. Just like I was when your grandfather died in Korea. I was about your age as well. A shame, that. That we McAllister men leave behind our widows and orphans." He grimaced, and squeezed Harry's hand as hard as he could. "Promise, me Harry. Promise me that you won't leave your mother and sister, that one day you'll have a family that gets to see you grow old and grey, that you don't die in this damn fool war. Leave the fighting to someone else. You've had enough pain in your young life already."

Harry felt his eyes feel with tears, and he wiped the away on his shirt sleeve, staining it with snot and tears. "I can't dad. You know that. I won't leave the fight to someone else. Even if there wasn't some stupid prophecy, we McAllisters never back down from a fight. Maybe I won't be able to do much until I've at least gotten out of school, but I'll still do everything I can to help make the world a better place. The world needs heroes, not cowards."

Tom smiled and lay back on his pillow. "Good lad. You'll make me proud, son."

After a few minutes, Becky and Alice came back with Neville. After saying hello, Neville left the family to have a few minutes of privacy.

"I'll be coming back home," Tom told the family. "Don't want to die in a hospital."

Becky's eyes were red, but she nodded and didn't say anything. Unlike Harry, she'd seen the decline of her father's health, and had made her peace with it as best she could well before this latest devastating news. Alice on the other hand was weeping openly, her arms around her children.

"I'll go back to school on Monday," Harry said in a trembling voice, giving his mother a squeeze. "I'll learn to be the best wizard I can, dad. I'll finish the job."

Alice sniffed and dried her eyes, but nodded. "That's what we want, Harry. A better world for our children. Your father...your father and I both, we understand."

"Just one thing, Harry. Dont hate the wizards or their world. They're people too. It wasn't them that did this to me. Black and Dumbledore may be right bastards, but they're only human."

Harry nodded, trying to smile. "Sirius hasn't been that bad lately, and the headmaster has mostly left me alone. Professor Snape does seem to think they're going to try something any time now but...but at least Sirius did try to help, dad. I won't hate maggies in general. How could I? I'm one myself, and most of my friends now are too."

A few hours later, Tom was discharged from Saint Mungos for the last time. He would continue chemo treatments, but everyone knew that it was only a delaying action. When Harry departed for school, his father had to say goodbye from the couch, where he was too weak to rise. Harry couldn't help but wonder if it was the last time he would see his father.


	44. Chapter 43

_Chapter 43: Now I lay me down to rest_

The train ride back was agony for Harry. He was alone with Neville in a compartment, Neville having quietly explained to everyone that Harry needed some alone time. Ron had tried to join them, but Harry had grimaced and shook his head. "Not right now, Ron. This is something between Neville and I. Just...I hope you never understand."

A look of jealousy had flashed over Ron's face, but it was quickly replaced by contrition. He knew what was happening to Lt. Col. McAllister. "Yeah, of course mate. You need anything, we'll be next door."

Harry watched the countryside going by, his chest burning and his throat raw and ragged.

"It hurts every time, you know," Neville said quietly.

Harry glanced over at his friend, who was also looking out the window, a far-away look in his eyes. "Every time I see my mum and dad. You'd think it would hurt less, that I would know they're not coming back. But each time I go, I always think, 'today's the day. Mum will smile at me, dad will look up and give me a hug, and we can go home. We'll be a family again.'"

"Every time I saw dad over the hols was a punch in the gut." Harry kept his gaze on the scenery, but he didn't see it. Instead, he saw his dad's parchment like skin, his sunken eyes, his listless movements. "He's always been so strong, you know? So full of life and vigor. Whenever I felt scared, I always thought, 'dad can make it better. Dad can keep me safe.' But not anymore. Now...now it's me, who has to keep him safe."

"Yeah."

"You're a good friend, Neville."

"Thanks. You're a good friend too, Harry."

They sat alone together, and sharing their grief made it just a tad easier.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Tom McAllister is dying, sir. I don't know exactly how long he's got, but the healers all agree it isn't very. He could be dead by summer. He won't see next winter."

For some reason, Sirius had once thought that the prospect of the McAllister's dying a horrible and painful death would bring him joy, because then he could have Harry all to himself, and life would be good. Instead, the reality was that seeing Harry suffer so much was sort of like losing James all over again. There was no joy in watching the once strong and vibrant man waste away, in watching his son mourn and his daughter weep while his wife clung desperately to her sanity.

It was like the last war all over again.

Dumbledore sighed and nodded. "I can only advise you to be there for Harry in his grief. Take no joy in his pain, Sirius, for death is never good nor pretty. Instead, offer him solace."

"I thought...I thought this was what I wanted," Sirius said, fidgeting in his chair. "I thought I wanted the McAllister's dead so Harry would come live with me."

"My boy, I think you will soon find that what we truly want is often completely divorced from what we think we want." The Headmaster shook his head, his eyes distant and sad. He glanced up at the clock and sighed. "You had best take your turn through the train. We do not want a repeat of last year."

Sirius grimaced and nodded, stepping out from the new teachers compartment at the end of the train and started his patrol, nodding to Sinestra as he passed her. The students were more quiet and subdued on the train then Sirius remembered them being back when he was a student. Then again, there hadn't been teachers patrolling with wands out when he was a student either, nor had the the school been directly attacked by You-Know-Who.

Sirius paused when he came across Ron Weasley and Anthony Goldstein playing cards outside a compartment, wands in their laps. "What are you two doing?" he asked.

"Playing spit," Ron said, rapidly flipping cards back and forth between two piles.

"Hah!" Anthony said, slapping a pile and dragging it towards him. "Not this time, Weasley."

Ron grunted and began shuffling up the other, larger pile. "What do you want, Black?"

"Is Harry in there?" Sirius asked, nodding to the compartment.

Goldstein looked up with a calculating expression. "Maybe. What's it to you?"

"I'd like to speak with him for a moment. About...to apologize."

"Yeah?" Ron and Anthony shared a look, then Ron nodded. "Wait here." he slid the compartment door open and whispered something, then pulled his head out and stood with Anthony, who was putting the cards away. "Go on in then. But you watch yourself. We'll be right here." Ron gestured towards the door, an impatient look on his face.

Black raised an eyebrow at him, then paused. Ron had put his wand away, but had reached inside his robes. Like he was going or a weapon or something. But he'd put away the wand.

Black shook his head and stepped inside, pausing. Neville had his own hand under his robes, glaring up at him from the far corner. Harry was sitting, looking out the window with a vacant expression.

"I'd like to speak with Harry alone, Neville, if that's alright."

Neville looked to Harry, who nodded. "It's fine. He's earned this much."

"Alright. But we'll be just outside. If you need anything, just shout." Neville stepped outside and slid the compartment door shut, leaving Black and Harry alone.

Clearing his throat, Black coughed awkwardly. "Harry...I'm sorry. I've been, well, I've been a bit of an arse, to be honest."

Harry grunted. "I'm starting to understand why."

That comment gave Sirius pause. He had not been expecting that. "Come again?"

"You loved my father, didn't you?" Harry turned away from the window. His eyes were red and puffy, and his cheeks wet, but he did not show any sign of shame.

"I did. Like a brother. He was my nearest and dearest friend. Lily...she was special, but she was Prong's wife, and I mostly treated her like an annoying kid sister."

Harry swallowed, then looked down. "Then maybe I haven't been as understanding as I could have been. I've never...Dean and Seamus were my friends, but we weren't close. Losing them hurt, but it was never real. They were just there, then gone. I only knew them for a few months. But dad...I don't remember a time when he wasn't there. With him gone...I don't know. He's not gone yet, but it hurts, seeing him like this, knowing I can't do anything." Harry flexed his hand, flicking his wand through the air. "This...this was supposed to help me be a hero. But what good is it if I can't save those I care about most?"

"Yeah." Sirius blinked away the tears, starting out the window himself. "Yeah, I get that. My family and I were never close. My father was a weak man. My mother wasn't weak, but she was, well, she wasn't much of a mother. Prongs, that is, James, your birth father...he was family. I went a bit mad when I found out he died. You may have heard about it."

Harry smiled, wiping away his tears. "Yeah. Yeah I did. So, I guess apology accepted. Do you forgive me? For not mourning James Potter the way I should have, maybe."

Sirius held out his hand. "Clean slate."

Harry shook the hand and smiled. "Thanks, Mr. Black."

"And Harry, if you ever want to get away for a few months, just let me know. We could spend some time alone together, just the two of us. My house in Italy is lovely."

Harry's expression darkened, but before he could say anything, Snape stuck his head in, his lip curling. "You done tormenting your godson, Black? Come on, some of us have a job to do."

Oh, so Harry's friends threatened him but let Snivellus in no questions asked? "Go to hell, Snivellus." Black stood and jerked the door open, past Ron, Anthony, and Neville. He shook his head. A regular band of marauders, them.

/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"You were right, Professor," Harry said quietly. "It's all been just another ploy. He offered to take me away again just now."

Snape nodded. "Black is treacherous, Mr. McAllister. Do not forget that."

"If my dad does take a turn for the worse, dose him," Harry ordered.

Snape nodded, keeping the smile that kept tugging at his lips off of his face for now. "Don't worry. Everything is in place."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Term resumed after the hols with a slightly more relaxed air. February came, and with it, the full moon. No one noticed that Pansy Parkinson was taking notes on the state of dishevelment Daphne and Astoria found themselves in, or that Professor Lupin was in much the same state. If anyone asked, Daphne alluded to "female problems" and that promptly got most people to leave her alone. But Pansy knew for a fact that Daphne had her period a week ago, and you didn't need to be a genius to figure out the Professor Lupin couldn't possibly be having the same issues.

Pansy also made a startling discovery: Astoria had glamor charms on her face. They were subtle, something you might not notice if you didn't have a practiced eye for them, but Pansy became certain that this was the case. And those glamors must hide the scars from a werewolf attack. All of this she documented in letters she sent straight to her Auntie Umbridge, who she had never particularly liked, but was well placed in the ministry and so Pansy and her parents had always cultivated the relationship. Technically, Umbridge was her second cousin, but Pansy's father insisted the more familial term built stronger ties that could be called upon.

 _Dear Auntie Umbridge,_

 _Daphne and Astoria Greengrass and Professor Lupin were sick again on the full moon. I stuck my head out of the owlery tower for 40 minutes, and recorded three distinctive werewolf cries. I'm certain it has to be them…._

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Daphne lay in the infirmary, feeling quite miserable, until Lavander bounced in right after breakfast, Hannah right behind her. "We've done it!" Lavender cried, a wide grin on her face. "I chose my object! I picked a hand mirror, not just for looks, but because I always want to reflect well upon myself!"

"I chose a clipping from a fiery snapdragon plant Neville and I have been tending," Hannah explained. "Because of my love of gardening and because I bite back, just like the fiery snapdragon!"

Astoria sat up and managed a smile. Wolfsbane made the transformations easier yes, but they were still painful even if they were not consumed by the mind of the wolf. "Well, since Ginny picked a lit match and Luna chose a nargle, though I didn't see her put one in, that just leaves Hermione, doesn't it?"

"No, I picked mine as well," Hermione said, coming into the room and drawing back the curtain. "It was very difficult, but I tore out a page of 'A History of Magic' and put that in the potion. I don't like defacing a book, but, for a friend, I will."

"Well, then we just need a thunderstorm then," Daphne said, giving her friends a sad smile. "I suppose it's too much to hope that happens before the next, well, you know."

"Are we going to tell Professor Lupin and Padfoot?" Astoria asked.

Daphne shook her head, a gleam of mischief in her eyes. "No, I think that should be a surprize, don't you?"

Hermione's eyebrows knitted together. "Who's padfoot?"

"Oh, you'll see."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Another month passed, but there were no thunderstorms before the full moon. Half the month passed away, when the news Harry had been dreading arrived.

They were coming back from astronomy class, yawning and tired, when Sergeant Prewett stopped Harry and the second year Gryffindor class. "Harry, it's your father. I've just had word. He's been taken to the hospital. He's fallen into a coma. They don't know if he'll last the night."

Harry dropped his books, running after the red-headed sergeant, his thoughts of stars and planets long forgotten. They ran down to the dungeons, where Snape had a roaring fire going. He handed Harry a bag of floo powder. "Go to the Burrow. Transport will be waiting for you. I have notified the headmaster. Mr. Prewett will accompany you."

Harry spoke the words and stumbled into the fire. On the other side, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were waiting. "Come on, we'll take the car," Mr. Weasley said, leading Harry outside. "We just got word over the wireless."

"Will the car be fast enough?" Harry demanded.

Mr. Weasley grinned and winked. "I should mention that I got my old car back. This one flies."

The ride to the hospital was only about 25 minutes long, Mr. Weasley going faster and lower than was strictly wise, but to Harry it felt like an eternity. Would he make it in time? He didn't know.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Not 10 minutes after Harry left, Sirius Black stumbled into the dungeon, barely dressed and unshaven. "Where's Harry, has he gone?" he demanded.

Snape tutted and shook his head. "I don't see how that's any of your business. This is between Mr. McAllister and his family."

"I am his family, damn you Snivellus!" Sirius roared. "Where's he gone, where's Tom at? I...I want to be there. For Harry."

"So you can swoop away with him while the body of his father is still cooling?" Snape demanded, glaring at Black. He took his glass and threw it into the fire, which sparked black before going back to green.

"No, you black hearted wretch!" Sirius snapped. "I wouldn't dream of taking Harry away from his family, not anymore. So I can comfort him and promise Tom that I'll look after his son and make sure his wife and daughter are well taken care of! He did right by Jame's child despite having no reason to, and I'll do the same for his family!"

Snape hesitated, looking at his glass and at the fire. But then his lips firmed. "Saint Mungo's. That's where they're at."

Black grabbed a handful of floo powder and cried out, "Saint Mungos!" vanishing into flames that swirled black as well as green. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts, he did not see the malicious grin on Snape's face.

Revenge was sweet, no matter what the poets said, Snape mused. Especially when attained after so very, very long. Snape put out the fire and disposed of the ashes in his volatile potions waste containers. Even if Black really had changed his stripes, Snape would not lose any sleep over his deed.

Sirius stepped out, and scratched at his face and rubbed his eyes. Snape's sense of hygiene seemed to extend to his floo, as it was as noxious and vile as the man himself. He stumbled down the hall to the entry ward, hurrying up to the visitors desk.

"Where's Tom McAllister?" he slurred. For some reason, his tongue felt thick and heavy.

"Just a moment sir," the nurse behind the desk said. "Hmm, I remember a McAllister, but I don't think-"

"He's not dead already?" Sirius demanded, his heart sinking.

The nurse look up, and her face suddenly drained of all color. She slammed a button on her desk, and Sirius coughed as he was sprayed down with magical disinfecting potions.

"Spattergroit!" the nurse shrieked. "Contagion unit to the visitors desk, we have an active case of spattergroit!"

Sirius put his hands on the window, which had sealed itself shut. "What? No, I'm-" he stopped, staring at his hands. They were breaking out in weeping purple sores. "I'm not-" Sirius tried to speak, but he could only gag. He sank to one knee, groaning in pain. "That son of a whore," he thought. "Snape's poisoned me!"

"Sir, I need you to remain calm and still. We'll have you in the infectious disease ward in-"

Sirius didn't stay still. He broke away, hurrying out into the street. There were cries of alarm behind him, but Sirius ignored them. Pain and anger filled his world, and Sirius did what he had learned to do when it all got to be too much: he stopped being so Sirius. He became Padfoot, bounding away from his pursuers, who ignored the black dog that slunk away into the shadows.

Padfoot watched as the healers and mediwitches began to search, then slunk away down back alleys away from the wizarding hospital. He still felt awful, and his face was covered with blisters and warts. He wondered if a dog could die of spattergroit. He didn't care. He could never see Harry again, not as his godfather.

But he had a new man on his hitlist: He was going to kill Snivellus, if it was the last thing he did. He really should have fed him to Remus all those years ago.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Tom McAlister swam up out of the fog, and took a ragged breath. It was painful, but he managed to open his eyes.

"Dad? DAD!"

Tom tried to smile, but it was hard, so hard. "Rebecca. Harry." he looked up slightly, to where his wife stood at his shoulder. "It's alright, Alice. He's waiting for me."

Tom smiled.

At 3:43am GMT on March 20th 1992, Tom McAllister died of complications from metastasized bone cancer, radiation poisoning, and heavy metal poisoning, at the age of 56. He was survived by his wife, daughter, and son. He was considered to be the first casualty of the Second British Civil War, also known the Great Muggle War, or the War for Magical Liberation. The military quietly called it the Great Cluster Fuck.

The funeral was held the next Sunday. Four other officers were his pall bearers, each of them decorated combat veterans. A full honor guard with reversed arms was present. He was buried in a small, private cemetery where other SAS veterans had been laid to rest who perished during the First Wizarding War. His son, Harry McAllister, wore a new uniform with a strange unit patch on it, one with a crossed wand and rifle with the rank of an ensign on it. Harry's friends Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, and Ron Weasley also had on the same uniforms, as did three of Ron's brothers (despite her protests, his sister was not issued one).

The ceremony was short and private, and ended with the playing of last post. At the end, Harry McAlister knelt with his sister at the headstone of the freshly filled grave. Together, they swore to finish what their father had started.

Later,Tom McAllister would be credited as the man who brought two worlds together, and blamed as the man who destroyed the lives of millions. He would be remember as father, savior, and harbinger of doom.


	45. Chapter 44

_Chapter 44: The Storm_

Those who sleep without guilt or remorse consider sleep to be a refuge and a balm. But to those wracked with guilt and haunted by the ghosts of the past, sleep was little more than a nightmare. For those in Azkaban, little separated the waking nightmare from the dreaming one. As such, Peter Pettigrew was not at first certain if he was dreaming, or if it was a real nightmare when a grim arrived at his cell door. The cell was enchanted, made so that he could not assume his animagus form to escape it. He peered out from the bars at the growling dog.

"Is that you, Sirius?" Peter whispered, his sunken eyes darting about, unable to focus. "Are you here to finish it?"

The dog growled again. It's face was covered in horrific welts and boils, and its coat was mangy and ragged. The mangy dog became a mangy man, and a wand was pressed through the bars. Peter sighed. At last, the nightmare was over.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/

The disappearance of Sirius Black caused no small stir at school. He had been highly popular with the Gryffindor students, having almost single handedly been responsible for their 1,291 point lead over Hufflepuff, which was the next closest. Dark rumors started that he'd been cursed by a seventh year ravenclaw for once again throwing the house cup to one of their rival houses.

Albus Dumbledore, however, knew better. He had a nagging suspicion, and thus called Severus up to his office. "According to the wards, you were the last person to see Sirius Black before he departed for Saint Mungos," Dumbledore began.

Snape nodded, his lip curling. "Why he came to me I know not. However, I immediately recognized the signs of a Spattergroit infection, and directed him to Saint Mungo's. I do hope he is recovering nicely their." Snape's tone and expression indicated that he hoped Black and shriveled up and died.

Dumbledore was about to continue when Remus Lupin threw open the door and stalked in, followed by a blank faced Mr. Prewett. "I have tried. Tried, Severus, to be civil. I have been nothing but polite. I have reigned in Sirius' more boyish endeavors in regards to you. He had done nothing permanent, all of it was meant as a joke. And now you've poisoned the man." The werewolf was breathing hard, his eyes gleaming. "I will not lose my brother again, Snape. Not again. Merlin help me I will-"

The floo flared to life, and Dumbledore let out a quiet sigh of relief as Nymphadora Tonks stepped through.

"No sign of him Bigger Boss. But Peter Pettigrew is dead." She stepped over to Remus and put her arms around the man, letting out a strangled sob. Remus blinked, and wrapped his arms around the distraught witch. "He said he was going to murder that rat bastard, and he did! Oh Merlin, he's gone off to die now, I just know it!"

"It's OK, Tonks," Remus said gently, patting her on the back, his earlier anger forgotten. Dumbledore had to admire the young woman's acting ability. Or was she acting? He could never be quite certain with the young lady.

"It's not OK! He'd just reinstated my mum and I and even dad into the family! But the Spattergroit...there was an outbreak at the prison. It killed Ravier Jugson, and his brother Oleg is still showing signs of it. Oh Remus, he's out there alone, sick and dying."

Snape did not bother to hide the smirk that spread across his face. It was a mistake.

With a snarl, Remus shoved Tonks aside and drew his wand. "You had something to do with this!" he shouted, pointing it at Snape, who sat impassively, his face now blank. "Why else would he have used your floo!"

"He was after McAllister," Snape said, his eyes not straying from Remus' wand. "When I saw he was infected, I directed him to Saint Mungo's. I was trying to save his miserable hide, you ungrateful moron. Unlike some people, I have actually managed to get past my juvenile grudges."

"Enough, Remus," Dumbledore said. He sighed and shook his head. "I believe Severus is telling the truth. I will have Madam Wainscott check the student body for possible signs of infection. An outbreak here could be disastrous."

"But...but Snape...Sirius," Remus' anger faded, replaced by grief. "I can't lose him. Not again."

"It's OK, love," Tonks said. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, then took Remus'. "Come on. Let's go for a walk to clear our heads."

Mr. Prewett had followed the whole thing, his expression neutral, but he'd assumed a fighter's stance when Remus had drawn his wand. He glanced after the two, then looked at Snape. Snape nodded at him. Prewett nodded back, then bowed to the Headmaster. "I'll keep an eye on those two sir, make sure they're OK."

"They may desire some privacy, Mr. Prewett," Dumbledore said gently.

Prewett gave Dumbledore a small half smile and winked. "As you say sir." He left, closing the door behind him.

Turning his attention back to Snape, Dumbledore's forehead wrinkled slightly. "Severus, if you had anything to do with Sirius sudden illness…."

"The only thing I did was send a sick man to the hospital, which I am shocked I am being so interrogated for," Snape said, his tone dry. "If I had known I would be blamed for the infection, I would have instead hexed the man and allowed the disease to run its course. At least then I would have had the satisfaction of actually being guilty of the crime I am accused of."

"Well. I am glad that you at least have grown into the better man. However, I have dire news." Dumbledore reached into his desk, and pulled out the ring. "I have found the name of the kind of Phylactery that Voldemort created. It is a Horcrux; created by the splintering of a man's soul via murder."

Snape's sallow complexion paled slightly. "Merlin's balls. Is this the only one you know of?"

"No. There are more. I have begun to locate them, but…" Dumbledore trailed off, his expression concerned.

"You must surely know the location of one other," Snape said, his tone grim. "McAllister's scar."

Dumbledore flinched. So. Snape had figured it out. It had taken Dumbledore some time to make the connection, but knowing that a living vessel could be so imbued had made the leap of logic easy. "Indeed. I fear that it is the case."

"Then we must remove it at once."

"It is not so easy. The only known ways involve the destruction of the vessel. Basilisk Venom. A dunk in holy water blessed by a Christian wizard who is at least a bishop. The breath of a nurdu."

"The only one McAllister has a hope of surviving is a dunk in holy water," Snape murmured. "But that is not so likely; it is known to remove a person's magic and thus often kills them. When was there last a magical bishop?"

"1683. He died shortly after the Statue was signed, and there have been no more since. The Holy See is willfully ignorant of wizards these days, and we stay well out of the Church of England for obvious reasons."

"Damn and double damn," Snape growled. He shook his head. "We should consider other means then. There must be some other way."

"There is. Voldemort himself must kill the boy. It will destroy the Horcrux."

Snape's eyes flashed. "But will McAllister survive?"

Dumbledore hesitated. There was a hope, a faint one, but with the Stone part of the ring horcrux, it was a foolish one. "No. The boy must die."

Snape stood. "Then I find that option untenable. I will begin my research." In a swirl of dark robes, the man was gone.

Dumbledore sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. "Harry, whatever shall I do?"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

The day Harry returned to school, Draco Malfoy nearly died.

Having just lain his father to rest, Harry felt as though nothing was really real. He found himself drifting off and not focusing, his mind desperately trying to focus on anything that would distract it from the terrible reality he found himself in. He forced himself to return to classes, and his friends tried to distract and help him, but nothing really seemed to click.

"I think I need to be alone for a little while," Harry said quietly, looking at his lunch plate. They were sitting at the Slytherin table this time around, and Daphne gave Harry a concerned look and a pat on the arm.

"It's OK Harry. We understand. If you need anything-"

"Just some fresh air, Daphne," Harry said, sighing heavily. He stood and walked away from the table, wandering the castle without really seeing the portraits or the suits of armor.

Classes started, but Harry didn't attend. He wasn't sure if Professor Binns would even notice he was gone, and he knew everyone would cover for him, so Harry continued his meanderings. He needed his father back, needed his advice and comforting presence, yet it was that very absence that had created the problem Harry now face. As he wandered, chanced upon a room on the seventh floor he hadn't found before. He peeked inside, and was shocked to find that it was filled with pictures of two men: James Potter, and Tom McAllister.

Harry stepped inside, perplexed and a little frightened. Had someone been spying on Harry and his family. The more he looked, the more baffled he became. The pictures of Tom McAllister were a very eclectic collection. Some Harry recognized from family photo albums. Others were pictures of his father in uniform on dangerous, classified missions Harry had never seen before. There were school photos too, some Harry had seen, others of his father goofing around with his friends.

Next to Tom McAllister were the photos of James Potter. Everything from wedding pictures to images of him with a young Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew. "What were you like?" Harry pondered aloud. He glanced around the room, and spied a mirror in the far corner. He jumped. There appeared to be three people in the mirror's reflective surface, and Harry spun around, hand on his gun, but no one was there.

He stalked toward the mirror, weapon out and nerves tight, and then paused. "Dad?"

Harry hurried forward, shocked to see Tom McAllister smiling out at him, one hand on his shoulder. The other was clasped around the hand of the other man at Harry's side, one he easily recognized as he was standing in a room full of photos of him. Harry swallowed. "Father?"

But the Harry in the odd mirror was smiling happily, looking content as both his father's rested their hands on his shoulders and clasped arms, looking immensely proud. At the corner of the mirror, Harry spied Lily Potter and his mother, Alice. They were hugging one another, looking happily at their son and respective husbands.

"What is this?" Harry whispered. He looked down, and saw an inscription on the mirror. Taking out a pen and pad, he quickly wrote down. "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi."

What did it mean? Harry shrugged, pocketing the note and deciding he'd show it to Hermione later. She could figure it out. Harry gazed into the mirror for another long minute, then gave a heavy sigh as his stomach growled. It would be dinner soon. He'd skived off of Herbology and Potions as well as History of Magic. Professor Sprout would be understanding. Harry was pretty sure Professor Snape wouldn't be, but decided that it would be alright. He needed an excuse to give Harry more detentions anyway.

Leaving the room, Harry made his way back down towards the Great Hall.

"There you are, McAllister. Too lazy to join us again? I suppose you've been skiving off class by sleeping in a broom cupboard. Probably reminds you of home."

Harry closed his eyes. "Malfoy, if you're still here when I open my eyes, I swear to Christ I'll-"

" _Stupefy."_

As soon as Harry heard the spell, he was rolling away, drawing his weapon and pointing it right at Draco. "I am not in the mood for this!" Harry snarled, his gun trembling. "I am not in the mood for this Draco!"

The other boy had gone even more pale than usual. Instead of his usual persistent companions, Pansy Parkinson was standing next to him with her own wand out. "What, what is that?" Draco stammered, backing away. "That's not a wand!"

Harry blinked, and looked at where the scorch mark from the stunning spell had hit. It wasn't even near where he'd been. "You were trying to trap me," Harry said slowly. "Trying to get me to use my wand on you. I'd get it taken away, and you'd just laugh into your sleeve." Slowly, Harry put the gun away. "You are one lucky idiot, Malfoy. If you try something like this ever again, you can spend another week in the hospital wing with a broken arm."

Harry stalked away to dinner, leaving the two Slytherin's behind.

"That arse! We should report him to Professor Snape," Draco snarled.

Pansy put her arm on Draco's shoulder and smiled. "No. Let's write to our families instead. I think they could come up with something much worse for McAllister, don't you."

A slow grin spread over Draco's face, and he nodded. "Yes. Yes indeed. I like the way you think, Pansy. Just like a Slytherin should."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Clouds had been building all day, and seven hopeful girls cast constant glances up at them. Their had been several rainstorms at Hogwarts in March, but no truly spectacular thunderstorms. Yet.

"Do you think it will?" Lavender said

Ginny shrugged. "I hope so. I'm getting pretty tired of waiting. And the full moon is in just three days."

"Don't remind me," Daphne growled, then blanched and repeated herself. "Sorry, it's just…."

Hannah took her friend's hand. "We understand. It's OK. Maybe this time, we can be there."

"I hope so. Padfoot's gone now." Astoria looked forlorn as she said it, and shuddered slightly. "I don't want to be alone with just Professor Lupin."

Remembering all too clearly the wolf's instincts, Daphne shivered as well. "I hope so."

"Padfoot's gone?" Hermione asked, looking surprised. "Who was he?"

"Professor Black," Astoria said. Then she suddenly shrieked and jumped. "Did you see that!"

A moment later, the distant sound of thunder rolled over the castle grounds.

"Well, it looks like the gnelfids will have a grand feast tonight," Luna said dreamily. "They always come out to feed on the lighting, you know."

Together, the seven girls raced up the stairs to the transfiguration classroom, where Professor McGonagall was waiting for them. "It is not yet time," she said sternly. "You must wait until the storm is directly overhead!"

"Please, please let it come!" Ginny groaned. "I've waited so bloody long for this!"

An hour passed, in which only Luna seemed relaxed and happy. "Can we play Monopoly again, Hermione?" she asked, kicking her legs out.

"NO!" the other six girls said immediately.

Hannah shuddered. "That was so awful."

"I don't think I could handle another game like that," Lavender admitted. "Daphne, Hermione, you got scary."

"The point of a game is to win, Lavender. Not to coddle your friends and let them have a free ride because you like them," Hermione lectured.

Daphne sniffed. "The Greengrass family did not gain its wealth by being kind in business deals."

"So then why did Luna win sis?" Astoria taunted. "I don't think she really even understood how the game worked."

"I do so love the color Blue," Luna declared, fingering her butterbeer cap necklace. "It goes with my eyes."

"That card was cheating," Daphne growled. She blushed and looked down. "I mean really. Right after I landed on stupid park place I get to the go to boardwalk card? Stupid."

There was a loud, deep rumble, and all eyes snapped to McGonagall, who had been pretending to grade papers. She set them down and smiled. "That, I believe girls, is our signal."

With a wave of her wand, McGonagall transfigured a cabinet to reveal a hidden chamber, which the girls hurried over and opened. Inside lay five potions of varying colors and tones. Hermione's was a glowing silver color, and when she opened it smelled faintly of sea foam. The shimmering blue vial that had an aroma of rain on cobblestones was Ginnys. Lavenders was a dark, rich brown that filled the room with the scent of hazelnuts when she opened it. Susans was a green, loamy color that smelled of a warm summer's day. And the vial that appeared to be filled with mist had been made by Luna, and smelled like musty old furniture.

"Ready?" Hermione said, her hand trembling slightly. All the other girls nodded.

"Amato animo animato animagus," the girls chanted, as they had done since they had first put the mandrake leaves in their mouths nearly six months ago. As one, they all downed the potions.

Groaning, the six girls sank to the floor, their forms shimming and folding.

"How long does it take?" Astoria asked, her eyes wide.

"That depends on how well the potion is made," McGonagall said, her eyes shining cat-like in the darkness. "Ah, there goes Granger. Her potion was expertly made."

Instead of Hermione, a large sleek brown shape lay on the floor. The otter sat up, blinked, and let out a barking sound, before putting its paws to its mouth in embarrassment. Interestingly, the otter's front teeth were actually slightly beaverish in nature.

The next to go was Hannah. In her place sat a rather perplexed looking common badger, which held it's claws up and twiddled them, letting out chuffing sounds. It's face was scarred, fur gone where the marks of old boils could be seen.

Then came Ginny, who was replaced by a beautiful arabian filly with a bright red coat that matched her hair exactly. The horse whinnied, then tried to stand on shaking legs, but collapsed.

From where Lavender had been came the sweet, musical call of a magpie. Then, in a surprisingly clear voice, "My goodness, I seem to have become a bird!" The bird hopped around, flapping its wings. "I'm a bird! This is amazing, I'm actually a bird!" On the top of the bird's head was a pinkish band, right were Lavender's hair band would have been.

Mist swirled about the place where Luna had been, which faded away to reveal a most particular creature. It had small antlers with two prongs, fanged teeth, rabbit ears, wings like that of a game hen, and the body and long bushy tail of a squirrel. Around the neck of the creature were strange markings, like those found on the top of a cap of a bottle of butterbeer.

"How can Lavender talk?" Daphne said, bending over and holding out her hand. Lavender the magpie hopped onto the outstretched hand, beating her wings clumsily.

"I don't know how I can talk, but I just started too and it worked fine! I want to fly though, ooo throw me Daphne, I think I can manage!"

"Go ahead Miss Greengrass. Not too hard though. She's light enough a fall won't harm her, and she needs to get used to her new body. They all do." McGonagall went over and crouched down by the oddity that Luna had become, pursing her lips. After a moment, she stood and shook her head. "In all my years...Miss Lovegood, you are perhaps the first Animagus since Yvonne the Odd to manage to become a magical creature. And a wolpertinger at that."

"Can they change back?" Astoria said, sounding concerned.

The otter changed back into Hermione, who sat on the floor, looking stunned. She swallowed and smiled. "Yes, I suppose we can. I just had to think the incantation. Amato animo animato animagus." Hermione once again became an otter, which then tried to make its way around the room on clumsy feet.

After a great deal of trying, Ginny the filly made her way onto shaking legs.

"Don't you dare Miss Weasley! You are far too large to go prancing about my classroom. You shall have to go outside for that."

"But it's raining!" Ginny protested, turning back into her human self. "We can't go out now!"

The badger waddled over and chuffed, headbutting Daphne on the leg. She picked it up, smiling and stroking it's back. "Hello Hannah. I have to say, your animagus form is perfect. Very fitting for a 'puff such as yourself."

The Hannah the badger hummed happily, then nuzzled Daphne, who set her friend back down. Hannah returned to her normal form, squealing and hugging Daphne tight. "We did it! We actually did it!"

Luna fluttered her wings, then jumped into the air and began to flap around the room.

"Can normal wolpthingies do that?" Ginny asked, frowning slightly.

Professor McGonagall snorted. "As if the normal course of things would have any impact on how Miss Lovegood behaves herself."

No one could argue with that sentiment, and shortly Lavender was flying around the room with Luna, singing as both a magpie and in her usual singsong sort of voice. She finally landed on a desk, and transformed back. She grinned, jumping onto her feet. "Professor, is it normal to be able to talk as an animagus?"

"For certain kinds of bird animagus it is not uncommon," McGonagall explained. "Birds, as you well know, are very capable of mimicking a variety of sounds, including human speech. Most animals however are incapable of making much more than approximations of human speech. My cat form, for example, can yowl as though it is saying hello, but even that is fairly unintelligible."

"That makes sense I suppose," Lavender agreed. She transformed back into her bird form, and once more swooped about the room. "But flying is ever so much fun! I wish you all had bird forms!"

Luna crashed into a desk, her odd form fading. She sat up and blinked. "That is very unusual. Do you know, I think I may have discovered several new magical creatures? Wrackspurts are much more visible as a wolpertinger, and I think I saw some odd wispy shapes in this room. I wonder, do they feed off of learning? There were a lot of them around you, Hermione."

For several more hours, the friends all experimented with their new animagus forms, Daphne, Astoria and Professor McGonagall cheering them on. Several times McGonagall became a cat and showed the girls the finer points of animal behavior, though mostly she was simply enjoying herself. It had been a long time since McGonagall had felt the simple joy that came with the transformation in the same fashion that her pupils did now, and she was revelling in their reflected happiness and achievements. This was truly why she had become a teacher.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\\\/\/\/

Days later, Professor Lupin was waiting in the shrieking shack corridor, standing naked in the shadows while he waited for the inevitable. His whole body trembled with weariness and pain, the moon's call pressing upon him. It was almost a relief when his body warped and twisted, becoming that of a wolf. Thankfully, his mind was still his own thanks to the wolfsbane potion. Shaking himself, Lupin trotted up the tunnel to the room where he'd left the girls, only to have the race by him, yipping excitedly.

Letting out a bark of surprise, Lupin turned around and ran after the girls, who had gotten the secret passage to the woods open and were waiting for him. This didn't make any sense to Lupin: He'd thought the girls would be far more morose about the absence of their long time companion during the full moons.

Once out the door, the girls raced toward the castle, their sleek forms darting between the moon dabbled trees. Lupin growled and barked, trying to get them to turn back around. Merlin, had they not taken their wolfsbane? No, they must have, they weren't trying to kill him at the moment. He hurried after, but didn't catch up until they halted, close to treeline. Lupin growled and snapped, trying to get them to go back, deeper into the forest. Instead of complying, the girls just whined and pawed the ground. What was going on?

Then he saw it. Across the moonlit grounds galloped a young horse, her long mane flying in the breeze. That would have been fairly unusual, but what was even more unusual was the fact that she had four animals perched on her back, and a bird of some sort riding on the top of her head.

 _What in the name of bloody merlin is going on?_ Lupin thought.

As the filly got closer, a cat hopped off her back and strutted towards where the werewolves were hiding in the trees. With a start, Lupin realized he recognized her scent: It was McGonagall. The other scents were oddly familiar as well, but somehow altered and strange, almost like…

Lupin yipped in surprise, and Daphne and Astoria lifted up their heads and howled, then darted out of the treeline to where the horse had stopped to let the other creatures off its back. An otter, a badger, and a very strange beast that could only be a wolpertinger. Reluctantly, Lupin slunk out of the trees and sniffed at them, then snorted and shook his head in shock. If he could have have spoken, he would have sworn in surprise. It was Daphne and Astoria's little pack of friends, all turned into animals. But it wasn't some involuntary transfiguration: they were animagi, just like Lupin's companions of old.

The magpie flew around Remus' head, then to his shock spoke. "Hello professor! It's us! Can you believe, it, we all became animagi!"

Lupin whined, then barked, trying to communicate his surprise and shock. McGonagall meowed to get everyone's attention, then slunk off into the trees out of sight of the castle. The whole menagerie followed, and soon the night was filled with the sound of happy animals playing together in the forest. Inwardly, Lupin couldn't help but smile. While he would still miss Padfoot dearly, at least the Greengrass girls would never want for companionship.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/

Pansy clicked the camera again, grinning to herself.

"Did you get it?" Draco asked, capping his inkwell and blowing on the parchment he'd been writing on. "Three werewolves for sure. And a whole load of animagi. I think I know who they were as well."

"It has to be Granger and her crew of syncopants," Pansy whispered back. "We've no proof though, so we had best not name any names there. It makes for excellent blackmail material though. I got some shots of the werewolves alone in the trees though, so we need only hand those over as evidence."

"Parkinson, I think I may be in love," Draco joked, his white teeth flashing in the darkness. "You may be the most evil bitch I've ever run across. Well, except for Auntie Bella of course."

"Then I have something to aspire to," Pansy giggled. "Come on. I'm sure your father and my Auntie Umbridge are going to love this."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

 _Authors Note:_

 _Good news everyone! The story is finished and I'm a couple of chapters into the sequel story already. But terrible news everyone, I'm going away to work at a summer camp. Sadly, we have yet to find a way to turn volcanos into active wi-fi hotspots, so I will not be posting chapters during that time regularly. I will get as many out as I can, but we shall see. I return at the end of July when we'll go back to regular updates._


	46. Chapter 45

**Chapter 45: The Tearing of the Veil**

Life went on. At least, that was what Becky told herself. She was alone in the park, swinging on the same swing set she and her brother had played on ages ago when they were small. She wasn't small anymore of course, being a gangly girl of thirteen, but at that moment, Becky felt very, very small. It had been just under a month since her father had died, two days since his funeral. She hadn't gone to school that day. She'd thought about it, gotten dressed, gotten out of bed, sat down to have breakfast, and there had been her father's chair. Empty. She'd wept like a baby again. Some days she went to school. Other days she stayed in bed and cried. No one had told her she couldn't.

Instead of getting on the bus, she'd walked to the park. Her mother hadn't said anything other than, "be safe love."

It was hitting them both hard. Harry was back at school, of course. He'd left the day after the funeral. Gone back to carry out his oath to their father, to learn magic and reforge the world so that no more men had to die in secret to protect the guilty.

Harry didn't know of course. Becky wasn't supposed to. Their father had died because of the pills he'd taken to be with Harry in this time of need. Someday, mum might tell them. Maybe not. It was a secret Becky wished she didn't know. On one hand, she loved her brother, and she understood why her father had been willing to risk death to be with him. Had died, to be with him. On the other, she resented her brother. He was only adopted after all.

"Stop it," Becky growled, shaking her head. "Stop it. It's not Harry's fault."

With a groan she stood, kicking at the sand. She kicked a rock into the bushes, and there was a yelp. She hurried forward and found a dog, a very mangy looking dog, favoring his leg. She'd hit him with the rock.

"Oh, you poor thing!" Becky rushed forward, then hesitated. This was a strange dog, and one that looked diseased. She didn't know if it was rabid or something.

The dog whined, shying away, limping on legs that were covered in warts and open sores.

"No, no, stop, it's OK," Becky said, hurrying forward. The dog let her pet it, and she reached into her bag and pulled out a bit of bacon she'd put there from breakfast for a snack. "Here boy, would you like some?"

The dog eagerly ate up the bacon, despite the sores she saw in its mouth. "You're not well, are you boy?" she said, looking over the dogs diseased frame. The dog whined, shying away from her.

"Shh, shh it's OK. Come here, come here boy." She petted it again, then stood. "Come on, come with me. Yes, that's it. I think I know just what to do for you."

"Mum, come here," Becky called from the yard.

Alice paused in her cleaning, wiping her forehead. She stepped outside and beheld the ugliest dog she had ever seen.

"He's sick," her daughter said, looking up with pleading eyes. "He needs medicine. Do you think we can help him?"

"Becky, I-" Alice paused, searching her daughters face. She sighed. "Oh, alright then. Come on."

The vet took one look at the dog, who was lying quietly on the exam table, and told them the honest truth. "That is the sickest animal I have ever seen in my life. We would be doing it a favor if we put it down now."

"No!" Becky stepped forward, assuming a fighting stance unconsciously. "No! He's sick, we have to save him. Give him some medicine, make him better!"

The vet hesitated, but when she saw the pleading look in the two women's eyes, she relented. "I can give you something for the sores, and some special dog food to help with the stomach problems. But honestly, I don't know if he'll make it. He's pretty far gone."

"He has to," Becky said firmly. "I'll make him better."

For a week, Becky had to feed the dog by hand, so weak and sick was it. After a week, the boils started to fade, and some of the shine started to come back into the dog's coat. After two weeks, the dog was almost healthy again, able to go for walks with Becky and Alice around the neighborhood. As the dogs health improved, so did Becky's and Alice's. Becky went to school everyday, and started engaging with her friends more. Alice was able to sleep again, to not have to fill her every waking moment with busy work to keep from bursting into tears. Together, they healed.

"I think I'll name you Tock," Becky told the dog one day. "You helped me and mum get out of the doldrums."

The dog grinned, though it didn't understand the reference, and barked. Becky laughed, and fed Tock some more bacon.

She never noticed that Tock had to go outside fairly frequently, or that spending too much time indoors made Tock shiver slightly, as if he were trying to change his skin. After all, Tock was a dog, and dogs needed to go outside.

Most dogs, however, wouldn't have been affected by the McAllister home's antimagic defenses.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\\\/\/\/\/

The night of May 16th, 1992, Fenrir Greyback attacked the Abbot residence. He'd given up after casing the Zabini place the month before during the Easter Holidays. They had more wards than he could count, and he was pretty sure he smelled some muggle landmines on the property. That was right out.

He had of course, lain some false trails to throw off his pursuers. He'd snuck around the Weasley place a few times, then back to the Goldstein residence. It wasn't until the last minute he apparated to the Abbott farm; he'd cased the place during the last war, and it would be a fairly easy nut to crack if as little had changed as he thought. That was a good thing: his dark master was getting impatient. He'd had only a single success so far and the Dark Lord and his messenger were growing impatient.

"If you do not produce another success, and soon, it is you who shall suffer the wrath of the Dark Lord!" the masked man had cried. Greyback had flinched, knowing all too well what happened to those who angered the Dark Lord. He had no recourse either: both sides hated him now, and unless he gave his master another success he was doomed.

Moments after arriving, he transformed into his wolf. Like all werewolves, Greyback could not control his wolf unless he took wolfsbane, which he never had as he considered it a disgrace to deny his inner wolf. He was, however, very in tune with the monster within, and they wanted much the same thing. Death, destruction, and more wolves in the pack.

Wolf Greyback shot across the fields, ignoring the simple wards that tugged at him. His enormous wolfen form was four and a half feet tall and weighed over 200 lbs, larger than even the biggest natural wolves on record. He raced toward the house, scenting the two young children in the loft and feeling his bloodlust rise. He leapt towards the window snarling and baring his fangs.

A crack sounded in the crisp night air, and Greyback felt an impact like that of the largest and most powerful bludger slam into his chest. He was flung to the side, dazed and bleeding, trying to figure out what had happened. Inside, there was a noise as lights began to turn on. Across the field, heavy boot impacts sounded as feet raced forward.

"We have the target, but the subjects are waking up. Moving in for the kill now, we'll need extraction," a voice said, only audible to the enhanced senses of the werewolf.

Greyback struggled to rise as his wound healed, only to hear a ripping sound and fall back down as more impacts peppered his body. Damn! The muggles and their infernal weapons had found him again. Still, his healing factor was unrivaled, and Greyback the wolf got back up, snarling and charging forward. He never heard the last gunshot from the Barrett M82; it's hypersonic round exploding his head before the sound of the bullet even reached his keen ears.

Even an alpha werewolf could not heal from having his brain reduced to atoms and his skull smashed to flinders, and the lifeless body of the most feared werewolf in Britain tumbled to the ground, never to rise again. His death, however, would have far reaching consequences.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Lewis Abbott had been a very concerned parent over the last few years. His oldest, Hannah, had been scarred for life on the Hogwarts express last year, not to mention the attack by You-Know-Who on the school itself. Now there were odd sounds coming from his grounds, and he stepped outside with his wand. "Stupefy!" he cried, hurtling a stunner at shadowed figures on the lawn.

There were cries, and someone threw an object at Lewis, who shielded and launched a reductor curse at the object, shattering it before it could do any harm. He was about to fire off another stunner when an impact struck him in the chest. He was hurled back, and struggled to breath. His wife reached out of the door and dragged him inside, firing off several curses at their attackers. Thankfully, the intruders retreated, taking their stunned companion with them.

"Call-ah! Call the aurors!" Lewis gasped, struggling to breath.

Moments later, armed men and weapon stepped through the fireplace.

"Lewis, what's happened?" Demanded Rufus Scrimgeour.

"Figures, outside. Got hit with something, not sure what spell it was. Urg, hurts, think I cracked a rib."

"Right, Dawlish, Shacklebolt, outside with me. Healer Tebs, treat the injured."

Outside the aurors found the shattered remains of the enormous werewolf, but could not identify what spell had killed it. Healer Tebs, however, was married to a muggle man and easily identified the source of Lewis Abbots injury.

"Rubber bullet," she pronounced. "Your lucky it was rubber. It hit your rib cage and you've got a bruised spleen and a busted rib. I can fix you right up here, but I think we should evacuate. If the muggles are attacking, we need somewhere safer."

"I don't think they were after Lewis," Scrimgeour said slowly, the werewolves injuries suddenly making sense. "It was the werewolf. The muggles were hunting the werewolf."

"But it's only a half hour past moonrise. When they attacked, that werewolf couldn't have been transformed for more than a few minutes," Dawlish protested.

Kingsley frowned. "I think Alastor said they attacked the Bones place a few months back hunting a werewolf. Just some muggle police after what they thought was a vagrant. But they couldn't kill it, the wolf was Greyback and he heals bloody fast. This time it looks like they were ready though."

"Bloody buggering hell," Scrimgeour swore.

Even Kingsley could only nod in agreement. If the muggles knew about werewolves, what else might they know?

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Panic was the only way to describe Cornelius Fudge's current state of mind. He'd been woken up in the middle of the night by his aurors with the claim that the muggles had killed Fenrir Greyback, who had been in the process of attacking the Abbott farm.

"This is an abomination!" Umbridge raged, her normal sweet person forgotten. Pink Hair curlers were still in, and traces of the face mask she'd worn to bed could still be seen, giving her a terrifying appearance. "Werewolves are a clear threat to our society. We have to do something about this, and now. They are running rampant across the country."

Lucius Malfoy had nodded tightly. He didn't look pleased about having been woken up by a panicking minister, but he managed to bring a sense of calm poise. "This all starts, I believe, with allowing them into such influential positions across the country."

"What do you mean, Lucius?" Fudge demanded. "Werewolves are forbidden from holding ministerial positions."

"But not, it seems, from teaching at Hogwarts." Lucius nodded to Umbridge, who gave a beatific smile, looking even more frightening as she did so, and came over to deposit a folder full of photos numerous letters. "This is evidence collected by my son Draco and Delores' second cousin Pansy Parkinson. It shows that we have three werewolves at Hogwarts, one actually elevated to a position of authority as a professor. This is an outrage that cannot be allowed to continue with their kind makes such blatant and horrific attacks on our populace. They are a menace, and should be contained."

Looking through the photos and letters, Fudge let out a startled gasp. "But, this implicates the Greengrass family! It would seem that both their daughters are werewolves from this evidence. They're a noble and well respected family!"

"Indeed. And if you recall minister, Cedar Greengrass recently made an alliance with one Arthur Weasley." If Fudge had been a more observant man, he might have noticed the inner fire that burned in Lucius Malfoy's eyes, and been more cautious. As it was, he was panicked and confused, lost as to what to do next. "Yes, well, I suppose we'd best send the aurors to round them up. Get Amelia in here, I think she'd be interested to know that her daughter is being educated in the same place as a pack of monsters like this."

An hour later, both Director Bones and Chief Warlock Crouch were in Fudge's office. "You are missing the point, Cornelius!" Crouch barked. "A werewolf attack is concerning, yes, but it is not new. Muggles stampeding about on a magical family's doorstep killing and attacking at random are! We need to focus on the bigger picture here."

"Barty is exactly right Minister. These are children we are talking about, and I'm sure Dumbledore has them quietly taking wolfsbane. They are no more a threat than my dog at home. The muggles on the other hand, are something else," Bones said, nodding to Crouch.

"You would place your priorities on a vague threat when a clear, direct one is haunting the very halls that our children do?" Lucius demanded. He was playing the frightened, angered parent to the hilt, and his face was actually flushed with emotion. "If you will not do something, myself and the board of governors will. This demands immediate action. The people need to see our response now."

"Yes, yes we must take action. Director Bones, I want a squad of aurors at Hogwarts immediately to round up the werewolves and ship them off at once!" Fudge demanded.

Crouch rose. "This is a mistake, Cornelius. You are making a mountain out of a molehill. And alienating the respected Greengrass family while you are at it."

"They did that when they worked to oppose me with my enemies!" Fudge raged. It was a poor choice of words. Had he not been so exhausted, had he been a bit brighter originally, Fudge would not have made the slip. But he did, and the others in the room regarded him with a new light.

"Fine. We'll do it your way. I'll have a strike team assembled and ready first thing in the morning. Good day." Director Bones stalked away, and behind her went Crouch, followed by a whispering Lucius Malfoy. Umbridge smiled at Fudge, then flounced away.

Wearied and exhausted, Fudge slumped in his desk. He poured himself a glass of firewhiskey, and tried to make sense of things.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"This isn't right," Tonks muttered as they marched towards the floo. "This isn't bloody right. Those girls are innocent, even if there was another attack last night."

At her side, Alastor Moody growled, but said nothing.

"We can't do this, can we?" Tonks pled. "We can't go in and arrest those poor children! Why did they choose us?" Tonks glaced at the back of Director Bones, who was stalking forward as if someone had issued her a personal insult.

"Keep quiet trainee," Moody barked. "Let me handle this."

"But-" Tonks took a deep breath and nodded. Fine. She'd let the boss handle this.

They stepped through the fireplace and into the headmaster's office, who was waiting for them with a worried look and no sign of a twinkle.

"Amelia, Alastor, Nymphadora. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"Albus, why did you have to go and hire a werewolf?" Directo Bones said, her tone tired. "You know what people will think."

"The last time I checked, there was no law regarding the hiring of werewolves as teachers," Dumbledore said quietly. "Nor is there any jurisdiction where the Ministry is concerned in the hiring of Hogwarts teachers."

"There is now. The Minister signed it into effect this morning as a special emergency order under the special emergency powers granted to him under the Dark Lord clause amended by the Wizengamot last year."

Taking the parchment, Dumbledore read through the wording, his lips thinning. "I see. Then the Minister has chosen to take the low path."

"And...and we are here to investigate claims that you have students at this school who are werewolves as well," Director Bones said tiredly. "We have very good evidence. As you know, werewolves are not to be housed with minors who are not infected."

"That law is open to interpretation. It specifically says adult werewolves."

"Come off it Albus," Moody growled. "You know that people will say it covers both adult and minor werewolves. Now where are they?"

Dumbledore gave Tonks and Moody a very sad look. He sighed. "They are all recovering in the hospital wing, I should imagine."

They were not, in fact, in the hospital wing. "Oh, they were here headmaster sir, but all things considered they looked very hale. They went down to breakfast ten minutes ago. I suppose they're still there," Madam Wainscott said.

"Fast recovery from a full moon," Moody observed. "Good medical care, or something else?"

"Well, I don't know what you're talking about," the matron declared, sniffing and turning up her nose. "Medical records here are confidential, you have no right to make suppositions about my patients, especially minors."

Tonks' feet felt like lead as they made their way down to the great hall. She could not believe this. Here she was, being told to arrest her sprogs and her dear Remus, just because they happened to share a disease with a madman. They stepped into the great hall, and Tonks immediately spied the Greengrass sisters. Her heart skipped a beat. They looked happy. Worse the wear for sure, with bandages and circles under their eyes, but they were sitting with their friends, talking happily and eating. She narrowed her eyes suddenly. Granger, Weasley, Brown, Lovegood and Abbott were all looking a bit worn out as well. Why? They couldn't have stayed up for their friends.

When he noticed her, Remus Lupin sat up. He look beat to hell as well, but just as the girls, surprisingly hale. His nostrils flared though when he saw Moody and Director Bones. _He knows,_ thought Tonks. _Remus, can you ever forgive me?_

"Hmm," Moody said, studying the girls. "Interesting."

"We should get them quietly, Albus," Director Bones said. "Pull Remus and the girls-"

"Attention," Albus Dumbledore said, striding up to the head table and conjuring the podium. "Your attention please. Director Bones has an announcement she would like to make."

"Albus!" Director Bones hissed, her face flushing with anger.

Dumbledore gave her a cold look. "If you must do this, do it in the open. I will have no cloak and dagger nonsense. These children deserve to know what is happening. They have already lost one teacher to death and disease this term. I want them to know exactly why they are about to lose another."

"Fine." Her face grim, Director Bones stepped forward. "It has come to the attention of the Minister of Magic that Hogwarts is home to several individuals who suffer from an unfortunate condition. This condition is mostly a plague upon the individuals themselves, but do to concerns that this condition could spread and public feelings regarding those suffering from it, I have been ordered to remove them from this school pending an investigation. The individuals who are suffering from Lycanthropy will be removed from Hogwarts until such a time as-"

"No!" Hermione was on her feet, her face flushed. "You can't!"

"Hermione please," Tonks said, her face pained. "Sit down."

"I will not!" Hermione said. She pointed an accusing finger at Tonks. "You know them! You're our friend! You even like Professor Lupin. You can't do this!" Hermione looked at her friends, who were all seated at the Hufflepuff table with her. "You can't let her do this," she whispered, the sound carrying in the quiet hall.

Immediately, all the Defense Club members stood, save for Daphne and Astoria, who looked so stunned from the news that they could not find the strength to stand.

"I don't know what's going on," Harry McAllister said, looking around at his friends. "But we're not about to let you haul off anyone in chains. You said something about lycanthropy? What is that? I've not seen anyone sick with anything dangerous except Mr. Black, and he's long gone."

"Harry, we're werewolves," Daphne said, tears filling her eyes. "My sister and I. We've tried to keep it quiet all term. I'm sorry."

Looking genuinely baffled, Harry frowned. "What, is that why you've been sick so much? It's not catching right? Only if you bite someone?"

Daphne nodded mutely, and Harry looked back up at the head table, his face contorting with anger. "You'd take them out of school just because they might bite someone when they're werewolves? They haven't done it so far, so I think that's a bit of a stretch."

"Young man, this is an order from the Minister," Director Bones said, her face showing every bit of the weariness she felt. "I am legally bound to execute it. Those suffers from lycanthropy at the school are to be removed and placed in a safer environment."

"But they are perfectly safe!" Lavender Brown called. "We were with them all last night!"

That caused quite a stir. Hermione groaned and put her face in her hands, McGonagall suddenly became very interested in her goblet, and Tonks felt her eyebrows climbing up beyond her hairline and had to force them back down.

"You what?" Director Bones said, her voice choked.

Without a word, Luna Lovegood transformed into a wolpertinger and started flapping around the room.

"Bloody hell!" Ron Weasley gasped, jumping back. "How'd you do that?"

"LIke this, Ronald," his sister said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She stepped back and turned into a horse.

Fred and George both fainted dead away. Or at least pretended to.

"I…" Director Bones swallowed, looking as though she'd just bitten off a lot more than she could chew. "Just how many animagi are there at this school?"

"Loads," Hannah Abbott declared, and promptly turned into a badger.

"Brother mine, we've been outdone," a faint voice said from the floor under the hufflepuff table.

"We'll never out prank Gin-Gin now," moaned it's twin.

A magpie that had just a moment before been Lavender flew across the room and landed on the podium, and in a clear voice began lecturing the head of the DMLE.

"Now you listen here, Daphne and Astoria are very nice. They're lovely people really, and they just have a bit of a furry problem once a month. Now I think we've got this handled quite nicely and if you would all just kindly leave it to us, we'll be-"

"If you leave the children, I'll come along willingly," Remus Lupin said, standing on shaking legs.

"Remus, no!" Tonks said, her face a mask of agony. "You can't! You're a great teacher, you're fantastic, and you love this job! You can't just walk away."

"Personally I can't wait to be rid of the halfbreed scum," a loud voice said from the Slytherin table. It was Gregory Goyle who stood, unfolding a piece of parchment and squinting at it. "Werewolves are a men-ace to society. They should all be locked up. I don't feel safe knowing that my classmates are werewolves. It is wrong to be taught by a werewolf. I am a wizard, not a mon-grol. I will write my parents about this." Then he sat down, looking very pleased with himself that he'd actual managed to read something.

"I'll have your guts for garters you miserable ugly little troll!" Ginny Weasley screeched, having turned back into a girl just so she could draw her wand.

There was a bang, and Ginny's wand sailed through the air to land in the headmaster's hand. "Enough! While I will allow that Remus Lupin is an adult, and as such can be taken away by the proper authorities for questioning, the Greengrass siblings are minors, and as such under my direct protection and that of this school. They shall not be removed without express permission of their parents."

Director Bones nodded, rolling up her parchment. "Fair enough. We'll be back with Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass later. Alastor, take him away."

"No."

Director Bones paused, the parchment still halfway rolled up. "Beg pardon?"

"I said no," Moody growled. He stomped over, ripped his auror badge off his jacket, and slammed it onto podium. "I quit. I hunt dark wizards. I fight the dark arts. I don't arrest good men who have spent their whole lives fighting for the Light. I don't terrorize small children. Well, not as a part of my job anyway; that's more of a hobby. I said I quit."

"Me too," Tonks said, ripping her own badge off and slamming it on the table. She stuck her tongue out at the director. "You can tell Fudge to go and boil his head. I'm not being an auror if part of the job is being a total arse to everyone."

"Tonks," Remus said, hobbling over. "Don't. Not for me. I-" he had to stop there, because Tonks was kissing him very forcefully.

"More on that later," Tonks gasped as she stepped back. She squeezed Remus' hand. "I'll come and find you later. If they put you in Azkaban, I'll show them that Sirius wasn't the only Black who can organize a break out."

Remus, for his part, couldn't manage anything more intelligent to say other than, "Abaduh."

And so it was the Director of Magical Law Enforcement alone that escorted Remus Lupin away, the man going willingly. As they left, Harry McAllister snapped to attention, saluting the departing werewolf. Hermione went back to being a girl, having been an otter for a moment and joined him, as did the Weasley clan and Neville. After a moment, the Defense club did as well, and then the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables.

Lupin smiled wanly and nodded to them. "It has been an honor. You will all do very well. Tonks, take good care of them."

The doors closed, and the students turned back to Dumbledore. "Will the Greengrass sisters please come to the head table to speak with me for a moment?"

Instead of the Greengrass sisters, Dumbledore got two werewolves and five animagi.

"Where they go, we go," Hannah stated, folding her arms across her chest.

"Seeing as how the five of you mastered a complex and difficult bit of magic just so you could spend one extra night a month with your friends, I am forced to concede that separating the seven of you seems to be a task that destiny herself has decreed unwise," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "One other thing though. Nymph-Mrs. Tonks, would you be so kind as to substitute for the Defense classes until I am able to procure a replacement?"

"You got it, Bigger Boss," Tonks agreed, sitting down at the head table at Remus' vacant spot. "I'll keep the seat warm until Remus get's back."

Moody deposited himself at the empty chair left by Black's disappearance. "Well, I'm retired now. Man's got to have a hobby."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Tears filled Daphne's eyes as she sat in the headmaster's office, and for the life of her she could not decide if they were tears of joy or tears of grief. Her friends sat with her, holding her hand and telling her with would be alright, even though they all knew it would not. Her parents sat as well, their faces ashen and filled with horror. Strangely though, Daphne was content. No matter what happened, the people who she loved would not abandon her.

"You mean to tell me that the Director of Magical Law Enforcement herself stormed in here with armed aurors and tried to abduct both of my daughters," Cedar Greengrass ground out. Daphne had never seen her normally composed father so absolutely livid. His hands were clenched into fists, and his knuckles were white where they gripped his wand.

"She did not appear to do so willingly, and the aurors in question were so reluctant to do their jobs that they immediately resigned upon being told to take an innocent man and two children into custody," the headmaster explained. "All things considered, I think they did an admirable job of making the best of a very bad situation. I am afraid that the higher ups handed the whole thing very badly."

"You mean that Cornelius Fudge is an incompetent jackass who disgraces the office of minister," Laurel Greengrass snapped. Her husband nodded in agreement.

Grimacing, the headmaster shook his head. "I am afraid for now I have been booted out of politics, and have very little power to wield in that arena at the moment. I am facing an inquiry from the board of governors myself, spearheaded by Lucius Malfoy."

"That will stop," Cedar said firmly. "I have ties to several members of the board. If they want to continue to buy Greengrass produce, they're going to have back off."

"What about us, daddy?" Astoria asked, her voice quavering.

"I will not banish any students from this school to pander to the fearful bleatings of the masses," Dumbledore said firmly. "You are welcome to stay until it is no longer within my power for you to do so."

"You're coming home," Cedar said. When the headmaster and Daphne's friends made noises of protest, he held up his hand. "This furor has forced our hand. It is not safe for you here. I am sorry Headmaster, but after the incidents last year I am not going to risk the wellbeing of my daughters on the chance that you will be able to prevent another grievous attack such as happened last year. Not when it is obvious someone within these walls has a vendetta against my daughters."

"Parkinson," Daphne snarled. "It has to be her and Malfoy. I've noticed them following me around, I thought it was just because I was part of the defense club, but if Draco's father is acting in concert it's just too convenient."

"That is nothing but speculation," Dumbledore declared. "I will brook no bullying on either side. You are to leave Miss Parkinson and Mr. Malfoy's punishment, if any is to be given, to myself and the other professors. Is that clear, Miss Granger?"

"Crystal," Hermione said, narrowing her eyes. She glanced at Daphne and mouthed "we need to talk."

Before Daphne could get the chance to speak to Hermione, her father stood. "I think we had best be going before the Minister decides to start another raid. I'll be contacting my solicitor. Hopefully, we can sort this mess out."


	47. Chapter 46

**Chapter 46: Puppet Master**

"Order! I will have order!" Bartimus Crouch thundered and slowly, the Wizengamot quieted own. "Thank you all for attending this emergency session. As you all may have heard in this morning's paper, the minister has reacted to a werewolf attack that took place two nights ago at the Abbot's residence. His actions include removing a werewolf teacher from hogwarts, and the two Greengrass children who were also werewolves."

This caused a bit of a stir, but Crouch glared about the room and there was once again silence. "Whether or not the minister did enough or too much in regards to the lycanthropy issue is not what is at hand. What is at hand is the fact that Fenrir Greyback, a powerful wizard and alpha werewolf, was killed on magical property by muggles! The issue at hand is not that a werewolf attacked a magical residence. That is a magical problem, to which we have magical solutions. What we do NOT have solutions to are muggles easily and effortlessly attacking multiple magical institutions! They have now been at the Bones residence and the Abbot's have even been at Hogwarts. At least in the case of the Bones, they muggles were caught and obviated. But we have no idea who was responsible for this latest attack!"

There was a stir amidst the assembled court. "What has the minister done?" a voice cried out.

Crouch smiled. Good old Yaxley. He had contacted him months ago as the Master's plan came to fruition. "The Minister has done nothing, and is obsessed with werewolves," Crouch answered. Lucius had seen to that, for his own ends though. He was too slippery to bring into the fold yet.

"Are you serious?" Demanded Wendilyn Smith. She was an ally of Dumbledore to be sure, but she could have a role to play as well.

"I am afraid so." Crouch let a concerned expression color his face. "He has been worried that his enemies, particularly those connected to the Greengrass family at Hogwarts," no need to say Arthur Weasley's name aloud now, "are plotting against him."

"He's worried about his position with muggles running wild?"

Crouch allowed the Wizengamot to work itself up a bit before waving for silence again. "What the minister does is not my concern. What this body does, however, is. I am merely the chief warlock, but I believe that action that is not being taken to safeguard our world must be taken, and it has to be taken now. I have spent my life safeguarding our world from all forces that would destroy it, and though they are not dark nor wizards, the muggles present a clear threat."

"What should we do?" a frightened voice called. This time it was Rodrick Ollivander, the nephew of the famous wandmaker.

"We must immediately crack down," Crouch said. "I am presenting legislation before this body that would allow the Minister special powers to make probes into the muggle world. We do not understand them well, but perhaps they understand us better than they should. The muggle prime minister is of course aware of our existence. We should begin with him, to see what he knows."

"But will the minister act?"

Crouch hid his smile and shrugged. "I can only hope he does the right thing."

After the session had closed, Crouch went to his office. He locked the door, closed the shutters, and strode over to the far corner. Taking out his wand, he rolled up his right sleeve and taped the seemingly blank space on his bicep. "Lucius Malfoy," he intoned. "Chief Warlocks office."

Then he rolled his sleeve back up, unlocked the door, and sat down at his desk to finish drafting the new legislation he was proposing. Twenty minutes later, a scowling Lucius Malfoy peeked his head in, then tried to duck back out.

"You were not mistaken," Crouch said quietly. "Enter, and close and lock the door behind you." Crouch set the paper work aside and glanced at the clock. This was cutting it close, but then, the best plans usually did.

Lucius stepped inside, closing the door behind him. His face was composed, but he gripped his cane just a bit too tightly. "Chief Warlock. I had thought someone had summoned me here. I believe I was mistaken. However, if you have business to discuss with me, I would be happy to make an appointment. I am available on Tuesday afternoon, I believe."

"That will not be necessary, Lucius. Have a seat." Crouch indicated a chair, but Lucius did not sit, his expression cold and empty. Crouch sighed. "I confess, I do not like you, Lucius, but not for the reasons you may think. Yes, I certainly resent that you escaped Azkaban, but again, not for the reasons you suppose. In the end, I have been convinced that you have remained a faithful servant. You've done a masterful job of backing Crouch into a corner, pulling the rug out from under Dumbledore, and grooming Umbridge. You have done well. Consider yourself fortunate in that fact."

"I am not certain I know what you are speaking of," Lucius said slowly, studying Crouches face. "Is this some sort of pathetic trap? I have been nothing but a faithful servant of the Ministry."

Crouch gave Lucius a grin that would have sent shivers down the spine of a lesser man. He nodded to the plaque on his desk. "Tell me Lucius, who's name is on this desk?"

"What, are you mad? Your name. Bartemius Crouch."

Crouch giggled, unable to control himself as the time approached. "Yes, that is quiet correct. But you should notice it Lucius. You're very observant when you want to be. What is absent from my desk?"

"Well, I suppose it doesn't say Senior, but you would want to distance yourself from your son."

"Haahahahaha! Ah, you are so close! So close! It is not the son I wish to distance myself from." Barty changed. His face lost the age lines, becoming smoother and younger. His eyes became more deep set, and ringed with black shadows. Madness sparkled in their depths. His hair changed color slightly, darkening to that of a younger man. He even got a little taller. "But the father. For you see, I am Barty Crouch. But not the Barty Crouch you think I am."

"Junior," Lucius whispered, his eyes growing wide. "But you are-"

"Dead?" Crouch sniggered, rubbing his hands gleefully. "Oh, but I am not! For you see, it was my dearest mother who took my place. But the Master found me. Locked up in the basement, imprisoned in my own mind. But the Master was kind. He possessed my father, breaking my curse and allowing me to subdue that wretched man who gave me my name. I have been keeping him alive at my home, with the aide of my house elf. She does so detest having to slaughter unicorns, but alas, it is the only thing that can keep the Master going for now. Soon though. Oh! So soon. It is for that reason that you are needed, Lucius. You have something. Something of the Masters that is needed."

He pointed to the fireplace with his father's wand, and it flared to life. "Come, Lucius. The Master awaits us."

When Lucius Malfoy stepped through the fireplace into the Crouch residence, he felt a tingle in his right bicep. He shivered. Once more, he sensed a presence that he had not thought he ever would again in this lifetime.

"They are below. Prepare yourself, worm. You will go before the Master."

Lucius swallowed, and put on his best minion face. It combined a look of awe with groveling and just a hit of smugness. He descended the stairs, and immediately dropped to the floor when he reached the bottom, paying obeisance even before he saw the Dark Lord. If this was all a monstrous prank, he could kill Junior later.

A sick, wheezing laugh issued from a throne like chair that was shrouded in darkness at the center of the basement. "You always were a survivor, Lucius. Wise of you to prostrate yourself your master."

The voice was that of Bartemius Crouch Senior, and yet it was not. Without looking up, Lucius said, "I live to serve my lord. Had I but known of your return, I-"

"Yes, yes, of course. You would have stabbed me in the back, disposed of my body, and seized my mantle for yourself. Oh, do not fear Lucius. I have grown past the minion torturing stage, at least for now. Should you prove useful to me, you shall even be rewarded. Rise."

Lucius did so, and swallowed. The ruin of the man before him at one point, must have been Bartemius Crouch Senior. His eyes were milky and glazed, from his jaw dribbled drool, and his hair was nearly all gone. His skin was ashen and flaking, and it seemed as if the entire body was decaying before Lucius' eyes.

"Not a pretty sight, am I?" the corpse said. The jaw clacked open and shut like it was being pulled by a puppet string, not its own muscles. "I will be honest with you, Lucius. This host is not long for this world. I have inhabited it for more than a year now, and it will last less than half that much time I fear, despite my best efforts. Barty Crouch Senior is, of course, gone. I obliviated him of all his memories, leaving him not much more than a vegetable. We had to have the body of course, so that my faithful servant could do his great work."

"Truly, a masterful and cunning plan my lord." Lucius was still grovelling, but he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of awe. It was a cunning plan, infiltrating the wizarding world from the inside.

"Be silent. Lucius, do you know of the one they call Harry McAllister?"

"Yes my lord. He goes to school with Draco, and consorts with muggles and werewolves."

"It is the muggles we must concern ourselves with. I have seen into the boy's mind, Lucius. Seen into his hopes and dreams while I was at Hogwarts. The muggles, Lucius. They knew. They know everything. And they would seek to use the boy against us."

Lucius' jaw dropped. "They, but, how could-"

"Squibs, Lucius," The Dark Lord's puppet snarled. "Squibs and mudbloods and muggles! I always knew they would turn against us, try to destroy those who should rightfully rule! I intend to rectify that." The Dark Lord deflated slightly. "Or, I would. If I were to live much longer."

Junior stepped forward, his face pleading. "Master, surely you can find another host! You are immortal you will-"

"Silence!" The corpse hissed, glaring at its false son. "Do not argue with me." The milky eyes focused back on Lucius. "You have something of mine, Lucius. It is a tome that contains all my secrets. The time has come for it to be employed."

"How, my lord? I am not worthy to bear your mantle, but I will attempt-"

"Not you." The Dark Lord waved a dismissive hand. "Your mind could not comprehend the secrets within. It has fully developed, it is not longer able to be molded to greatness. You are all that you will become. Still, I would have the knowledge of Salazar himself pass on to a worthy heir. Your heir, Lucius."

Instantly, Lucius heart began to beat faster. While he dreamed of power for himself, his son was the true apple of his eye. Power for him was his fondest wish. "Draco? You would make Draco the heir of Slytherin?"

"Indeed." The thing leaned back, showing rotting teeth in a rictus of a smile. "His blood is pure, and his family faithful. I would not have our world collapse into anarchy at the hands of the muggles. Your son must take the book. Within it he will find a spirit that can guide him. Teach him. It will make him great. Greater than he could have ever dreamed of being alone. When he returns home from school for the summer, give him the book. Tell him to write in it daily. Soon, it's powers will all be his. When he returns to school, he should be able to open the Chamber of Secrets and call forth its guardian. Have him use it, and use it well. With its power, he can ride Hogwarts of his enemies and restore the line of Slytherin once and for all. He must succeed where I did not, Lucius. Will you do this for me?"

"With pleasure, my lord," Lucius said, bowing and struggling to contain his glee. Draco, the true heir of Slytherin. This would be a boon indeed.

/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

The rest of the school year passed in long, dragged out weeks. Scores of students had wands taken away for hexing classmates, including every single one of the Defense Club members. A quiet war was being waged in the halls of the school, between those who supported the Ministry's new stance on Werewolves and its growing hatred of muggles under the hand of the Chief Warlocks new legislation, and those who opposed it.

Unsurprisingly, the lines were drawn down house lines. Hufflepuff and Gryffindor opposed the new legislation, and what Hufflepuff and Gryffindor hated, Ravenclaw and Slytherin liked.

One night in late May, there was a knock at the Gryffindor common room door, and Harry opened it to find Blaise Zabini standing there, a sack in his hand, his eyes ringed by dark shadows. "Please," he said, licking dry lips. "I need somewhere to sleep. Somewhere where someone won't ambush me while I can't defend myself."

Wordlessly, Harry stepped back from the portal. He led Blaise inside, where several students glared up at the dark skinned Slytherin. "Blaise is staying with us now," Harry declared loudly. "He's a friend of mine. Anyone that has a problem with it, can take it up with me."

"And me," Percy said, standing from where he had been working on last minute OWL prep. Without a word, Fred and George stood as well.

"Just make sure you're still flying for Gryffindor for our next match, Harry," Oliver said absently from where he had been doing his own homework. "We're one match away from winning the Cup."

Thinking for a moment, Harry took out his enchanted knut and rubbed it. Before long, all the Defense Club members met outside the Gryffindor common room.

"Luna, Padma, Anthony, how are you holding up?" Harry asked. They all had dark circles under their eyes.

"Not well," Padma admitted. "I've got to watch my back at every turn. My whole house has turned against me now."

"Harry," Anthony's voice broke, and he paused. Then he began again. "Harry, I don't know how much longer I can stand this. I've been hexed, punched, had all my clothes stolen, I don't think I can continue. If I don't quit the club and stay true to my house…."

"The Wrackspurts are very active in Ravenclaw tower," Luna said, her voice lacking its usual dreamy quality and gaining a ragged edge of weariness.

"Right. Blaise is staying in the boys dorm here. We've got room for you, Anthony. Padma, you stay with your sister. Luna-"

"Comes with me," Hannah said firmly. When all eyes turned to her, she blushed and shrugged. "We badgers have to stand by our friends. We've got room, trust me."

Harry smiled at the scrappy 'puff. "Thanks. If anyone gives you any trouble, talk to Sergeant Prewett or Professor Tonks. They'll sort things out, I know it."

No one raised an issue, save for some of the Ravenclaws and Slytherins who wanted their targets back.

"I'm afraid I've defected," Luna said to a group of Ravenclaw Prefects, having exchanged her robes for Hufflepuff ones. Most of them had been stolen anyway.

"And if anyone touches her, they touch the Badgers," Cedric Diggory declared, glaring at the other prefects. "I don't bloody care if she was sorted into your house. She's properly a badger now, so you lot can sod off."

"Is there a problem, students?" Professor Flitwick said, coming over. No one mistook the gleam in his eye for humor. The man had already confiscated dozens of wands and broken up three duels in a most spectacular fashion, one ending with the other combatants wands being snapped in the explosion.

"Sir, Luna's staying in the Hufflepuff dorms, she's not-"

"I am aware of Miss Lovegood's activities. The staff were struggling to find a solution to the problem of the constant bullying of Miss Lovegood and other students.. We are grateful to Hufflepuff and Gryffindor students to finding a most excellent solution. Anything else?"

There were mutters of annoyance, but the Ravenclaw prefects stalked away.

The Board of Governors issued a decree, delivered by a smug Lucius Malfoy, that no werewolves were allowed on campus for "health and safety reasons." It only increased the tensions. Hermione ended up in the hospital wing with Pansy Parkinson, after breaking both the other girl's arms for mocking the Greengrass sisters. Millicent Bulstrode had hexed Hermione with a very vile curse, and was nearly expelled. Hermione's only comment on the manner was "It was worth it. Sod the rules."

Fred and George told her that she was officially a junior marauder, and gave her a medal made out of cut up copies of the latest Board of Governors Decree. Oddly enough, she wore it for a week.

Thankfully, before anyone could be caused irreparable damage, the term ended. Exams were taken, classes ended, and the student population banished to their dorms due to a fight between the 'puffs and the 'claws that resulted in Cedric Diggory losing his prefects badge, and Luna declaring that she was going to marry the most heroic boy of the age, Cedric Diggory.

"All I did was take that stunner for you, Luna," Cedric said, looking rather embarrassed.

"I don't care. Now that you've broken up with that awful Cho Chang, we can finally be together," Luna said, trying to sit on the older boys lap.

Cedric blushed and scooted over. "Well, she was the one trying to hex you."

There was no farewell feast. The house cup was not awarded for the first time in living memory. Oliver, however, did not give a damn. The last match of the season had been weeks ago, and Gryffindor had won. "It's the only cup that really matters," he told everyone seriously. The Hufflepuffs took it in good stride, and everyone was quietly grateful that the match hadn't been with Ravenclaw or Slytherin. If it had, blood would have been shed.

On the train ride home, the atmosphere was tense. All the professors were in full force, wands out. Only by their vigilance was any further malice curbed.

At the train station, families stood apart, save for a tight cluster in the middle, populated by the most senior Defense Club members.

"Everyone stay safe this summer. If anything happens, you owl me, you hear? I know you heard me tell all the kids with norms for parents that already, but I mean it. We'll stand by each other, no matter what." Harry looked around as everyone gave him solemn nods of agreement. Out of everyone, this was the core, those who had endured the trials. Next year, Harry vowed to himself. Next year, he would tell them the truth.

Upon his arrival home, Harry was surprised and delighted to find a large black irish wolfhound that greeted him with enthusiastic barks and licks.

"Tock likes you," Becky laughed.

"He's brilliant. You just found him at the park, you said?" Harry said, scratching Tock's ears.

Mum nodded, smiling. "Yes. He was sick as, well, a dog. But Becky and I nursed him back to health." She was quiet for a moment. "It helped."

Harry nodded, eyeing the door reluctantly. He sighed and stood, squaring his shoulders. "Come on then. Let's go inside."

That night, Harry cried into his pillow for the first time in a month. Being home again opened all the old wounds, and he felt the loss of his father keenly. When his door squeaked opened, Harry opened one eye, thinking he'd see his mother there. Instead, Tock padded silently over and hopped onto Harry's bed, curling up at his feet.

"Good boy," Harry said. He patted the dog once, then lay back down. With Tock there, the pain seemed a little less vivid.

Tock awoke once in the night and sprinted back outside on two legs. Fortunately, the surveillance team didn't notice him go back to four. He lay down in his doghouse, looking up at the house, and wondering just what was going on with the place. For a dog, Tock was rather perceptive.

 _Authors Note:_

 _And you thought I forgot about the diary._


	48. Chapter 47

**Chapter 47: The Deep Breath Before the Plunge**

The Greengrass Manor and its grounds felt more like a prison than a home lately. Daphne and Astoria were still allowed to roam the (heavily warded) grounds, but could not stray past them to play in the fields and streams around their home. Despite the fact that it was summer, Daphne resented the fact she wasn't learning anything, and the fact that she was forbidden from doing so at Hogwarts again. Her mother had been tutoring her and Astoria, and had promised to hire tutors for them in the fall, but still, she felt despondent, especially as the full moon approached. In all the confusion and panic, she had missed her doses of wolfsbane, and would inevitably transform into a monster.

Just as she was truly falling into despair when term for Hogwarts officially ended on June 6th, a letter arrived.

 _Dear Daphne,_

 _Hello, I cannot imagine how the last few weeks have been for you. Things at Hogwarts got ugly after you left. I know I mentioned in my last letter that I got into a fight with Pansy Parkinson, but it was more than that. Blaise ended up sleeping in Gryffindor tower because people would beat him and hex him whenever he tried to sleep in Slytherin. Padma and Anthony stayed in Gryffindor tower as well, and Luna's become a Hufflepuff. She was bullied from the first, but things got really bad when she stood up to Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw Chaser, for mocking Astoria._

 _Anyway, that's not what I wanted to write about. Ginny and I want to come over to your house on the full moon, and we also want to come a few more times with our parents to talk to your parents as well. It isn't safe for anyone to be alone, and your family is too isolated. You live all the way out in the middle of nowhere with no one around for miles. The way things stand, you need to have your friends close._

 _Please write back as soon as possible._

 _Your Friend,_

 _Hermione_

Daphne looked up, overcome with emotion for a moment. She had friends still. Even in exile, she had people who cared about her and Astoria. She glanced over at her sister, who was clutching a letter as well, it having been delivered by the same owl.

"Ginny wrote," Astoria said, her voice trembling. "She wants to come visit with Hermione. On the full moon too."

"That's what this one from Hermione says. Come on, let's go tell mum and dad."

"Arthur Weasley and his daughter are of course, welcome in our home at anytime," Ceder Greengrass said, nodding his approval. "And if she truly has become an animagus and her parents will allow it, I know it would give you great comfort to have a friend with you this full moon. We'll have the wolfsbane ready next time. As for this Hermione Granger…." There was a long pause. Muggles and muggleborns were traditionally unwelcome in Greengrass manor. Though not as staunchly conservative and driven by blood purity as some, they were one of the Sacred 28 and prided themselves on being members of such. "If she comes as a friend, then we will welcome her as one," father finally declared.

"Thank you sir," Daphne said quietly, then both girls quickly hugged their father and ran off to write a reply. They didn't see the pained, haunted look that passed between their parents. Things were looking grim. Much of their family's business had dried up. Allying with the Weasleys and having two werewolf daughters had ruined many old alliances.

"Daphne, you never said you lived in a mansion," Hermione gasped, looking around in awe at the splendid grounds and large manor house. Though not as elaborate as some wizarding homes such as Malfoy Manor, the Greengrass estate had a large garden with a huge fountain that featured a statue of Demeter, Goddess of the Harvest pouring out a golden stream of grain. Occasionally, she would laugh and wave, and kelpies could be seen frolicking in the pond. The rest of the garden was very well maintained by the half dozen house elves that the Greengrasses kept, and currently featured Flaming Roses in full fiery glory.

The house itself was not old by wizarding standards, harkening back only to when the Greengrasses had truly made their fortune in the Victorian era. It's dressed stone walls were mostly in that style, though the west wing had a few gothic influences as it had originally been a family chapel. Above the doorway was the family crest and motto: _Messis venit locuples locupletis._ "From a good harvest comes real wealth?" Hermione translated, though her latin was a bit rusty.

Daphne's father nodded approvingly. "Not a bad translation. Please, come inside."

The two adults accompanying Hermione, as well as Ginny and Mr. Weasley all came inside. Ceder Greengrass held out his hand. "You must be Mr. and Mrs. Granger. I've heard good things about your daughter."

"She's a fine lass, but Ensign Granger nae one a' mine," the woman said in a thick scottish brogue, shaking Ceder's hand. "Her parent's are nae cleared for this operation, and as civilians we are right keen tae keep them out o' harm's way. Now, do nae be thinkin' I'm referring to yer lovely daughters Mr. Greengrass. I'm Lieutenant Meadows."

"Major Trevor Andrews," the man said in a clipped Cambridge accent, shaking a baffled Ceder's hand. "You've met Private Weasley and his daughter, I'm sure."

"Arthur, what are these muggles on about?" Ceder said, looking very confused. "The titles...they sound like ones from the muggle military."

Daphne studied the two posture of the two muggles, and came to a quick conclusion. "You're like Sergeant Prewett, aren't you?"

Lieutenant Meadows grinned, showing a mouth that was missing a couple of teeth. "Aye lass, that we are. Charlie's SAS, and while I was nae in the regiment with him, I did join the Maggie Works after working with MI6."

"I've been with sport and social for 12 years, ever since I was a second lieutenant," Major Andrews said amicably. "So yes, you and your daughter are correct sir, we are with the 'muggle' military as it were."

"Sweet Merlin, everything Crouch was saying is true," Cedar gasped, falling back and flicking his wand into his hand. "The muggles do know! The statue is-"

"Outdated, antiquated, and a way for monsters like Greyback and Macnair to hide the worst of their crimes," Arthur Weasley said, stepping forward. "Ginny, Hermione, take your friends and go outside for a bit, won't you? We adults need to have a quiet talk."

"Come on," Ginny said, touching Daphne's arm. "It will be OK, my dad wouldn't hurt a fly."

Daphne thought about the rumors she'd heard that this was the man who'd torn Griselda Nott's house down around her ears and murdered her in her sleep in the last war, but held her tongue. Feeling her heart beating very swiftly, she followed Ginny and Hermione outside with Astoria.

"What's going on Ginny?" Astoria demanded as soon as they were out in the garden. "Why are those funny muggles here? Are you really our friend, or are you just trying to trap us like everyone else!" She looked close to tears, but her hands were balled into fists, and Daphne could see her canines lengthening slightly. It was less than a week to the full moon, and both girls were feeling the pressure.

"They are here for the same reason we are: to keep both of you safe," Hermione said.

Ginny nodded. "They've been guarding the Burrow for ages now. Keeping out Greyback and anyone else who would try to break through the wards to attack us. And...and they were part of the team that killed Fenrir Greyback."

"Specifically, Lieutenant Meadows fired the sniper round that killed him," Hermione added. "Major Andrews was in tactical command."

Daphne and Astoria took this in, then looked at each other. They nodded. "Well, that settles that then," Daphne said. "Why don't we have a turn around the gardens? The roses are quite splendid this time of year."

As far as Daphne and Astoria were concerned, any muggles that had killed Fenrir Greyback were the right sort of muggles.

Inside her father and mother were coming to the same conclusion.

"So the only reason you were on the Abbott's property was just to hunt down Greyback?" Laurel asked.

Major Andrews nodded. "Quite. We've no interest in terrorizing innocent families. We were actually just a backup team, there were other targets we thought much more likely for Greyback to hit that night, but he tried to surprise us by apparating away at the last moment."

"I was half asleep," Meadows grumbled. "Wouldn't a missed his bloody heart with tha' first shot otherwise. Still, I got the bastard in the end didn't I?"

"You killed an alpha werewolf?" Cedar said. Then he shook his head. "Why?"

"Well, because the big bastard was after another one o' the kids, weren't he?" Lieutenant Meadows shrugged. "Believe it or nae I've got two little ones of me own back home with me husband. I'd do anything ta keep the little buggers safe, and the thought of a big beastie like that ripping into any child is enough to make me blood run cold."

"But you're muggles," Laurel said. "This isn't your world. Fighting werewolves isn't your fight!"

"And why, pray tell, is that madam?" Major Andrews asked in a somewhat frosty tone. "Are the Abbott's not subjects of Her Majesty like the rest of us? Do you think them so undeserving of protection?"

Laurel blinked and spoke slowly, trying to process her feelings. "Well no, it's just that it's the sort of thing that's left up to the aurors or the magical parents."

"The aurors were a day late and a penny short," Lieutenant Meadows snarled.

Arthur Weasley spoke up, having remained mostly silent throughout the exchange. "Laurel, Cedar, if the Major and Lieutenant hadn't taken action when they did, the Bone's family's youngest might now be a werewolf, or dead. Is that a risk they should have taken? What if they had been there on the night Greyback came after your girls? Would you have told them to stay away then?"

To that, there was no good response. The group sat quietly, sipping at their tea and thinking their own private thoughts. Finally, Cedar and Laurel finished their silent dialogue and clasped their hands together.

"So what is it, exactly, that you have planned?"

Major Andrews sipped from his tea cup, then set it down and smiled. "Why, nothing much. We simply wish to overturn the Statute of Secrecy, integrate mundane and magical society, and create a new golden age for the United Kingdom."

"Right." Cedar looked at Arthur Weasley incredulously, raising an eyebrow as if to say, "this muggle is mad, right?"

"Fred and George have their hearts set on being the first wizards on the moon," Arthur said quietly. When Cedar and Laurel stared at him in open mouthed shock, he added, "They have plans to visit Mars after. They're quite serious you know, they switched their classes to ancient runes and arithmancy since they thought those would be more useful for space exploration."

"Sweet Morgana you're serious," Laurel whispered.

Cedar took a long sip from his tea cup, then set it down. "Well. Our alliance still stands Arthur. You, at least, brought two very powerful friends to the table and offered your aide. What can the house of Greengrass do for you?"

/\/\\\/\/\/\/\\\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"But Bill, it's family."

Charlie sat with his brother on top of the Pyramid of Niuserre at Abusir, gazing down at the flocks of muggle tourists. They couldn't be seen of course, the top of the Pyramid was home to a few powerful magical artifacts that muggles couldn't ever know of. Or could they? From what mum and dad and the rest of his brothers had said, things might be changing soon. That suited Charlie fine. Dragon breeding and handling would really take off if they could have muggle tourists. Sure the beasts were dangerous, but if muggles were in on the trick, well then, nothing to it!

"Look around you Charlie. What do you see?" Bill demanded.

Charlie shaded his hand and scanned the horizon. "Ruins, mostly."

"Right. And why are they ruins?"

"Well, the muggles had a great big dust up over something I'd imagine."

"Exactly. And what do you think is going to happen if they find out magic is real?"

Charlie shrugged. "Not much probably. Have you seen many of their cinemas lately? All sorts of magic and stuff, and as often it's used by the good guys as it is the baddies. Sure a few nutters will get upset, but most people will probably just accept it and move on. Especially if we turn up helping people like mum and dad said. That'll be sure to win us a few friends."

"In Britain. What about here? I've got friends here, Charlie. They live in terror that the muggles will get a whiff of them, because they still stone witches and wizards here. Usually a poor muggleborn that didn't get found in time, but it happens." Bill sighed and took a long pull from his canteen. "Life isn't the same here, you know."

"You git," Charlie elbowed Bill and rolled his eyes. "I live in bloody Romania. You don't think I don't know what the Russians or those superstitious peasants would do if they got ahold of me? Honestly, do you think it helps the muggleborns here that we live in secret? If they knew what was happening, maybe they could get help."

"And if the muggles knew, it would make it easier for them to target us," Bill countered.

"Right. So, positives and negatives. Have to weigh them. Considering which side involves the sprogs staying safe, I know where I'm landing. Family first, after all." Having settled the matter in his mind, Charlie took out a bit of jerky and started chewing contentedly.

Bill, however, was not so sure. He sighed though. "I'll take the job."

Charlie grinned and shoved at his brother. "Of course you will! And the goblins?"

"Mrs. McAllister brokered a deal for me. They're letting Dumbledore buy my contract," Bill said. "Though he won't know she's the reason why."

"I'm thinking of moving to Wales," Charlie said. "I'll miss Romania, but…."

"But family is more important," Bill finished.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Harry's 13th birthday was a quiet affair that he celebrated taking the day off of his studies and training by visiting his father's grave, and the graves of his birth parents. He went only with his mother and sister and their faithful dog Tock, who was increasingly an emotional rock in the lives of the McAllisters. The black dog even payed a sort of respect of his own to the graves, laying down before them and waiting peacefully while the family paid their own respects.

For the man who raised him, Harry read aloud a letter he had written detailing his progress in mastering the various forms of magic, the schooling and training he was receiving over the summer, and the visits to the therapists and grief counselors. After finishing the letter, Harry took out his wand and ignited the paper, allowing the ashes to fall over the grave. "We'll bring the worlds together dad, I promise."

If Tock's ears had twitched and his eyes had grown wide while Harry read the letter, he was a dog, and there were various small animals in the graveyard that could easily have caught his attention.

At Godric's Hollow, Harry did much the same, though this time he mostly focused on bringing up memories of his happier days as a youth, talking about what it would have been like to have his birth parents there.

If Tock teared up a bit and sniffled and whined, he was a dog, and dogs were prone to do such things.

The only celebration was a quiet giving of gifts at dinner, which was Harry's favorite: anything that contained not a single hint of pumpkin. Most of the gifts were various books or board games, though some of his magical friends who were less clued in to Harry's dual life sent sweets or toys that held little interest for him now, though it was a bit fun to entice his sister into sampling the Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans.

"You mean, people eat these as something other than a dare or joke?" Becky demanded after having spit out a petrol flavored bean.

Harry grinned and winked. "Well, you know us wizards. We're a barmy lot. Hey mum, try one of these, will you?"

"You're not tricking me into eating one!" Alice said, looking up from the cleaning. "I heard you groan about eating a bogey flavored one earlier."

"Woof!" Tock said, coming over and sniffing at the beans.

"Here boy, try one!" Harry laughed. He tossed a bean to the dog, who snapped it up. He yipped, eagerly pawing the air as if to ask for more. Harry and Becky eagerly continued to feed their pet, laughing until it was late, and time for bed. For that night, there was rest.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Cornelius Fudge sat before the Wizengamot, sweating. He'd tried to respond swiftly and well to the looming crisis, but he was ever reliant on the advice of Lucius and Delores, and it seems that they had seen his sinking flag for what it was and abandoned him. Faced with an overwhelming tide of unpopularity from all sides, he had been brought up on charges. Fudge had never thought it would come to this.

"The Wizengamot is now in session. The trial for the charges of malfeasance in the person of Cornelius Fudge, holding the office of Minister of Magic will now begin," Crouch said, looking grim in his formal robes as Chief Warlock. When Fudge had appointed Crouch, he'd wanted to select someone who would be firmly in his political debt. But it had never worked out that way. Instead, he'd appointed a man so obsessed with justice he'd even charge his patron.

And so the parade of witnesses began. This was just the preliminary hearing though, with evidence brought forth by both sides and endless testimony and paperwork.

But in his heart, Fudge new the outcome. His supporters were quietly abandoning him. His power base was collapsing. He'd tried to cut a deal with Crouch, but that had produced no results from the old crusader. He knew he should resign, but Fudge was simply too much of a coward. He'd let the trial play out, granting a few last favors and trying to ensure a cushy retirement.

The fact that such actions were exactly why the trail for malfeasance was taking place was an irony that escaped the Minister. Which was too bad, as over the next few months, it would have at least been something to keep him entertained.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Walden Macnair had two great joys in life: Killing wizards and witches, and killing other sentient beings. For the last 10 years, he'd had a bit of a dry spell. Forced to content himself with killing sentient magical beings and the occasional murder of a few muggles, Macnair's life had taken on a dull, dreary tone. When Barty Crouch started opposing Cornelius Fudge from declaring open season on werewolves, Macnair thought that his whole life just might end up not being worth living. When Crouch called him to his office, Macnair figured it was to sack him, and that he'd just have to become a plain old boring muggle serial killer.

"Macnair. Tell me, how are the urges? I remember, you used to get the shakes if you didn't get to slaughter a mudblood family or two at least once a month," Crouch said once the door was locked and closed.

Blinking, Macnair frowned. "I think I need my solicitor." He was a killer, not an idiot. Confessing that he used to slaughter mudbloods to the Chief Warlock seemed like a bad idea.

"No need for that between a couple of old friends eh? I was there you know, when you killed Quincy Jameson. I was a bit preoccupied with his wife and daughter myself, but I did let you have your turn didn't I? The only thing I killed all night was time really."

Now Macnair was starting to get worried, and he slowly reached for his wand. "I don't know what you're talking about. It was your son, Junior, who killed the Jamesons."

"Now, now, Wally. Just who do you think you're talking to?" And then Crouch's face changed.

Not a lot, there was an obvious familial resemblance, but enough. And Walden Macnair's eyes bugged out of his head. "You...you're supposed to be dead. You died in Azkaban."

Junior giggled to himself. "That's what everyone thinks isn't it? Convenient that all my oaths of office, I only had to say my name and not the suffix. After all, I am Bartemius Crouch, am I not?"

Macnair nodded dumbly, too shocked to speak further.

Junior, on the other hand, continued to talk. "You see, I've been out for some time now. Continuing my father's legacy, as it were, of liberating Death Eaters from Azkaban. He's still with us, in body if not spirit, and currently playing host to the Master. Who has orders for you. They are thus: Kill the McAllister Family. Not Potter, whatever he calls himself, but his adoptive muggle relatives. They must be cut off and destroyed."

"This has to be some sort of trick," Macnair said, sounding baffled.

Crouch grinned wickedly. "No trick." He rolled up his sleeve, revealing his glowing Dark Mark. "I speak with authority. Do well in this, and you shall once more be given reign to pursue your more carnal endeavors. No more killing defenseless house elves and hippogriffs for you my friend."

Macnair felt his face twist into a manic grin. "Thank you, sir."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

In the heart of Malfoy Mansion, Draco Malfoy scribbled furiously in his diary, grinning wickedly to himself. Here, at his fingertips, was the very knowledge of the Dark Lord himself. He had learned so much in just a few short weeks! He understood now, understood why the Dark Lord was so great. He could see things in magic others could not. Patterns, flows in the magic that could be subtly altered based upon the every changing circumstances for greater results. It wasn't just knowing the spells, but understanding them.

His insights into the hated mudbloods was fascinating as well. Of course they would be jealous, but what Draco hadn't considered was that the also saw themselves as superior. They were actually foolish enough to believe that their pathetic sciences and culture were somehow as good or equal. Fools. All of them. He, Draco Malfoy, would show them all. He would make them pay. He gave himself over to the magic of the diary, and his eyes rolled back in his head as he felt the spirit within fill him with power and knowledge.

Soon. The Heir was returning home.


	49. Chapter 48: Begin Year 3

**Chapter 48: No More Lies**

Going back to Hogwarts was less like going back to school and more like girding up for battle, Harry reflected. While he hoped that tensions between the houses had eased a bit, with the current ministry attitude that was unlikely. Lines were being drawn between the muggle world and the wizarding world in increasing starkness as rumors flew that the muggles were becoming aware of the wizarding world, and planning their vengeance. To be fair to the rumors, they were half right. The mundane world was on a large scale aware of what was going on, but it was not actually plotting to destroy the wizarding world. Not yet, at any rate.

Securing his weapons beneath his school uniform, Harry paused in front of the mirror and studied himself. He was tall and wiry, the image of James Potter in his youth, though he had a bit more lean muscle. Briefly, Harry wondered what his life would have been like if he had been raised by the Potters. What would he have believed? Would he have thought of muggles as ignorant rubes, dependants needing protection, or as equals? He would, perhaps, never know the answer to that question. Turning away from the mirror, Harry made his way to the living room.

"Goodbye, Tock," Harry said, bending over to hug the dog. "Look after mum and Becky, alright?"

"Woof!" Tonk said, wagging his tail. He licked Harry's face enthusiastically, and Harry laughed, pushing the dog away.

"Good boy."

The ride to the train station was familiar by now, as was the growing sense of tension when they arrived. Even the wizarding families were noticing that not all the muggles were acting normally, though they wisely moved along and didn't say much. Harry recognized some of the guardians, but avoided acknowledging them as it would have been rather counter productive. Instead, he met up with his friends, and together they stepped through the portal into the wizarding world.

There was no mistake; things had changed. Harry saw Professor Tonks and Professor Moody stomping around the platform, as well as the new Chief of Security, Bill Weasley. Tonks was apparently to take over for Binns, who had finally been sacked as the most useless teacher in history. Moody was now the full time Defense Professor, and he was brooking no funny business. Stomping amidst the students, Moody grumbled and growled, keeping everyone polite, if not pleasant.

Upon seeing Harry, the other senior Defense Club members made their way over. Anthony, Blaise, Justin, Hannah, Lavender, Padma, Parvati, and Ernie. All from different houses, but all fast friends. Notable in her absence was Daphne: she would have joined them, but current legislation forbade werewolves from attending Hogwarts in any capacity.

"So I've talked with a few of my supposed housemates," Blaise said without any preamble. "And as it turns out, they still want my guts for garters. Even my mother's mention of vengeance hasn't persuaded them to lay off. And this is after Gunther Goyle ended up in Saint Mungo's after what good ole Greg did to me last year. So, any beds in Gryffindor open?"

"Always," Harry said, shaking Blaise's hand and clapping him on the back.

"What about you, Anthony?" Ron said.

The former Ravenclaw glanced nervously at his house mates, who were studiously not looking at him. "Well, I already went through all the trouble of changing my ties, and I'd hate to have to go back."

"I already know where I'm sleeping," Padma said, trying to smile. She had been a true Ravenclaw, and had made many friends there. When forced to choose between her house and her sister though, she had gone to the Club, and did her best not to look back.

"Luna's with Cedrick," Hannah said, pointing over her shoulder. "One of the 'claws prefects tried to sneer at her. I think Ceddy nearly broke his nose for that, but with Mad-Eye about he thought the better of it."

Hermione stood on her tiptoes to peer over the crowd. "Let's go talk to Tonks. I want to talk to her about changing schedules for you three so you're not stuck with anyone who'd try and hurt you while the rest of us aren't around."

"That's not very Slytherin of us," Blaise mused, but he then he grinned and shrugged. "So I guess I'd best be used to it."

The group trooped up to Tonks, who was glaring at a pair of Gryffindor sixth years who'd elbowed a young Slytherin. Before she could say anything, Harry scowled at the two larger students. "I don't like bullies," he said in a quiet tone.

Both students looked down at Harry and frowned, but nodded and muttered apologies to the small Slytherin boy and wandered off. The Slytherin for his part nodded to Blaise, then hurried away as if worried the gesture had contaminated him.

"Well, it's good to see you lot again," Tonks said, smiling. "How were your hols?"

"Pretty good," Harry lied. His holidays had been a long series of training and trying to forget the pain of his father's passing. "How were yours? How's Professor Lupin?"

Tonks' smile faded. "He's not well," Tonks said quietly. "They never even found Sirius' body. He's likely dead by now. Remus...he isn't taking it well."

"Despite our differences, tell him I regret what happened to Mr. Black," Harry said. And surprisingly, Harry found that he did. It had been necessary, but it hadn't been something he had enjoyed. Black had been a decent fellow, just damaged and loyal to a fault to Dumbledore.

"I will. You should write him some time, Harry. It might help. All of you, for that matter. He's not had a good run of it since leaving school. He worries about you lot constantly."

"We will, professor," they promised. Hermione stepped forward. "Professor, do you think you could see to it that Blaise, Anthony and Padma have their schedules changed to match 3rd year Gryffindors? And have Luna's match up with 2nd year Hufflepuffs?"

"If they are not all ready I'll sort it out," Tonks promised. "Sod tradition. The house system needs help. The headmaster has been working on a few fixes sure, but kids need help now. There are too many like Luna who would have fallen through the cracks if it wasn't for your club being willing to take them in hand."

"Thanks Professor," Harry said.

"Hey, is that Sergeant Prewett?" Hannah said, pointing to the portal where a man and his daughter had just appeared. "Who's that with him?"

"That would be my cousin," Ron said, frowning. "Mafalda."

Spying Harry and his group, Sergent Prewett took the young girl's trunk and led her over to Harry and Ron.

"Ronald. Harry."

"Sergeant," the boys said, having to fight the instinct to salute. Technically, they were officers, if very junior ones, but they still looked up to the veteran Sergeant.

"Hi Ron, hi Harry!" Mafalda said. "Guess what! I'm really coming with you to Hogwarts!"

"Right on kiddo," Harry said, smiling. He looked up at the Sergeant, who seemed fairly grim. "We'll take good care of her sir."

"Thank you," Prewett said quietly. He bet down and hugged his daughters. "Daddy's got to go now, but I won't be leaving this time."

"Promise?" Mafalda demanded.

"Promise." With one final wave, the Sergeant stepped away towards the train.

"So, looks like the squib managed to hatch a decent egg after all," a new voice drawled.

Ron didn't turn around, instead picking up Mafalda's trunk. "Draco, let me make something very clear to you. Mafalda is family. You pick on her, you pick on the whole Weasley clan."

"And you mess with the Weasley's, you mess with the Club," Hannah growled, cracking her knuckles and sounding very much like her badger animagus form.

"Try me, Malfoy," Blaise said, grinning in a very Slytherin fashion. "I'd love to have a fight in front of witnesses for once."

"You'll regret this, Zabini," Draco spat. He looked very unhealthy; dark circles ringed his eyes, and he looked as though he hadn't eat well since leaving school. "Things are about to change. Big things."

"The ministry can pass whatever laws it wants," Hermione sniffed. "Hogwarts belongs to Dumbledore, not Fudge, not Crouch."

"Didn't help your little werewolf friends, did it?" Draco sneered, leaning in towards Hermione. He suddenly squawked as a full sized pony shoved him aside and nearly trampled him into the ground.

"Oh, sorry about that, I didn't see you there," Ginny said as she resumed her human form. "Horses have a hard time seeing garbage."

Picking himself up, Draco only sneered. "You will rue this day. The lot of you."Then he stalked away.

"Mind yourself miss," Mad Eye Moody said as he stomped over, his magical eye following Draco as his mundane one stayed fixed on Ginny. "I play no favorites. If Malfoy bullies you, it's his head I'll be collecting. You bully him, and I'll have your guts for garters. You hear me?"

"Yes sir," Ginny said, tossing her hair like a horse's mane.

"Good," Moody growled, then stomped off.

"Hi Ginny!" Mafalda said happily. "Ooo, I hope we're in Gryffindor together! I want to be the very best witch, and dad says the best witches are in Gryffindor!"

"Does he?" Hannah said dryly.

Mafalda nodded, oblivious. "Oh yes, Hermione and Ginny I know of course, but I do hope to make some more friends my own age. Do you think they'll let me choose? Dad wasn't clear on how your house is decided."

"Oh, that's easy," Ginny said, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "You just have to wrestle a troll."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

The Welcoming Feast at Hogwarts was, as was to expected, somewhat subdued. The Hat, instead of singing, looked out upon the students tiredly. "Dark days are upon us. You will all need each other. Courage. Loyalty. Wisdom. Cunning. All these traits will be needed. Your world is changing, and changing fast. Cling to each other, and know that divided, this great school will fall. I don't seperate you to cause division, but to breed strength."

There was still clapping for the sorting, and new students were welcomed quietly to their new tables, but it wasn't the wild celebration Harry had witnessed in his first year. The real shocker came with Mafalda. "Slytherin!" the Hat cried.

The entire Weasley clan stood as one with that pronouncement, and Ginny let out a strangled cry.

"It's alright," Blaise said, standing and drawing his wand. He tapped his wand to his tie, and it went green. "I'll take care of it." With quiet calm, Blaise walked over to sit beside the happy girl, who was perplexed at the sullen looks she was getting from her new housemates.

"Blaise will take care of her, right?" Ginny said quietly, looking at Percy with a pleading expression.

Percy's own face had gone stoney. "He had best. I'll be having a talk with some of the older Slytherins. Before things got bad, I was amicable with some of them. She'll be OK, Ginny."

"Or else," George said. Fred only nodded grimly. Or else indeed.

At the end of the sorting, Professor Dumbledore stood and smiled. "I love the Welcoming Feast, for it marks a fresh, new beginning. All the misdeeds of the past are washed away, and we start over with a fresh, clean parchment. I urge you all to do the same. What happens outside this school should not undermine our bonds of fellowship within these halls. We are, all of us, Hogwarts. From the oldest professor, to the youngest student, we are this school There is a special kind of magic in that, the magic passed down from generation to generation. It is more than tradition, it is a living organism. One that carves the future each new day. Let us choose a brighter future. One where we are united together in common cause: to make a better world for all.

"Last year was fraught with peril and division, but that is behind us. I welcome once again Professor Moody to the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts." There was scattered but respectful applause at this. Moody may not be loved, but he was known to be a very good teacher by all. "And taking over for Professor Binns is Professor Tonks." This got a lot more applause, even from the Ravenclaws. Though they still resented the Year of the Badger, Binns had been so loathed as a teacher they were glad to see the last of him, and Tonks really was a good instructor. "Our new chief of Security is William Weasley, formerly a curse breaker for Gringotts." This got raucous cheers from the Gryffindor table, mostly thanks to the fact that half of Bills family was sitting there.

"Due to the retirement of Professor Kettleburn, our own Rubeus Hagrid is taking over as Care of Magical creatures instructor." This caused a rather inspired reaction amidst many of the students, as Hagrid was quite popular with anyone who got to know the jolly Keeper of the Keys.

"The Quidditch and House cups resume this year. Let them be characterized by fair play and good sportsmanship, and not by conflict. There are great rewards for those who seek unity instead of division. And now, let us eat. Bippity, boppity, boo!"

The food appeared, and the hall soon filled with talk and laughter and students dug in, the air becoming slightly more relaxed. "Think Blaise will be OK?" Antony said nervously, glancing over at the Slytherin Table.

"He will be," Harry promised. "We'll make sure of it."

At the end of the Feast, Blaise waved to his friends as he personally escorted Mafalda down to the dungeons.

"I'll sleep a little better knowing she's in good hands," Percy said.

Fred and George shook their heads. "Never thought we'd be agreeing with you on something like that when it came to a snake."

Ginny glared at them. "Blaise isn't just a snake. He's our snake."

"Still, it's a bit weird," Ron admitted. "Sometimes I feel like the whole world's gone mad."

"The world was always mad Ron," Fred said, winking at him.

George nodded. "It's more fun that way."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

For his electives, Harry had chosen Ancient Runes and Care of Magical creatures. While he had been interested in divination due to his reputation as the Chosen One, he ultimately decided he didn't put enough stock in such things to really pursue it. Hermione was also taking Ancient Runes, but was also doing Arithmancy. Ron and Neville were also taking Care of Magical creatures, though Ron had Arithmancy with Hermione (having decided to focus on tactics and theory behind spell use) while Neville was taking Divination, having decided he wanted to explore his own "Boy-Who-Lived" angle a bit more.

Care of magical creatures was fascinating from the start, as Hagrid introduced them to Buckbeak the Hippogriff.

"Now yer all going to treat this creature with respect, you hear?" Hagrid growled to everyone. "If ya can't handle actin' proper with something as smart as a hippogriff, ya ain't ready fer any o' the more interestin' creatures I got planned. And you can bet hippogriffs will be on your OWLS, because they're dead useful. Guardians and all that. Right, now, if you want to approach a hippogriff, ya have to bow to it."

"Why should we bow to a creature? Are we not wizards? It should bow to us!" Malfoy declared in a clear ringing voice, ignoring Hagrid and staring at the hippogriff. His eyes seemed to burn with a dark inner intensity as he said it, and several students nodded, agreeing with Draco's words.

"That's idiocy. You think bein' a wizard impresses Buckbeak here? He don't give a rat's behind about yer blood or yer magic. He's got magic of his own, and a proud heritage, but ya don't see him raggin' on about it. You bow to him, and he'll bow to you. Properly respectful like."

Draco snorted. "We have wands, he does not. We have the power, he does not. We are not equals: he is a beast, and we the masters. Do you expect us to kneel before dragons and kowtow to muggles? We are the Heirs of Emrys, it is nature that bows to us."

Hagrid's face had grown redder and redder the more Draco talked, and when he finished Hagrid exploded. "Draco Malfoy, you get out o' my class right this bloody instant! With an attitude like that, yer gonna be lucky not ter get yerself kilt over some stupid thing, like not bowing to a bloody hippogriff. I'm stickin' yer name from the rolls, and I want you gone, now."

"Fine. I have no desire to be taught by a halfbreed that can't even be trusted with a wand," Draco declared. "Anyone else want to come with me and sign up for a class with a real teacher?"

Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle all cleared off with Draco, but so did Terry Boot and Lisa Turpin. They seemed swayed by Draco's arguments, which were far more articulate and charismatic than his previous whining rants.

"What's gotten into him?" Lavender wondered.

Hannah squinted at the retreating figures. Lately, her eyesight had been growing increasingly nearsighted. "I don't know, but he sounds different. Smarter. More powerful. I think he's probably more dangerous too."

Harry nodded in agreement. "We'll need to keep an eye on him. If he starts rallying followers to oppose us, we'll have a serious problem on our hands."

The rest of the lesson went well, but Harry couldn't help but feel disturbed by the speech Draco had made. A coward who snuck around in shadows Harry was used to, but a bold Draco that was a decent orator? That was a new threat.

Before long, Snape had Harry and his friends down in the dungeons once again.

"Something has changed with young Malfoy," Snape said. "I believe that his father has taken him into the Malfoy family secrets, and begun his training in truth. Something about an old family tome was mentioned when I last had dinner with them."

"You have dinner with the Malfoys?" Ron said in shock.

Snape smirked. "Indeed. You forget that I am, in fact, the Head of Slytherin, and that I am Draco's godfather."

"I didn't know you were Draco's godfather," Neville said, looking at Snape suspiciously.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Please. It is a private matter, and not one you needed to know. Do you not trust me yet? I have been your confidant for long enough that had I wished to betray you, I would have had any number of excellent opportunities."

"Sorry sir, we trust you," Harry said.

Snape only nodded, as if it were his due.

"So are you going to give us a load of detentions again?" Hermione said, looking morose. "I don't think it's a good idea to go setting off cherry bombs in the Slytherin's cauldrons right now."

"I will not. Your defenses are still pathetic, but I confess to finding them adequate for most cursory intrusions. I will still test you in class, and may call you in from time to time for private tutoring, but I believe your skills at occlumency now suffice. They are almost as good as young Zabini's, though he has far more to hide."

"How are Blaise and Mafalda doing?" Ron said, a note of worry in his voice.

"I have made it clear that I will brook no further assaults upon the unity of our house," Snape said. "I have already had to crack down, hard, but I believe my choices of prefects this year will aide me in this endeavor. They are not of the old families who expected it, but instead cunning and ambitious individuals who know they owe their positions to me, and are thus loyal only to myself."

"Will you help keep an eye on the others too, Professor?" Harry said. He swallowed and looked around at his friends. "I'm thinking of bringing some of them in on it. Padma, Parvati, Blaise, Hannah, Susan, Justin, Lavender, and Anthony. I think they're ready. They've stuck with us this far, even going against their houses in a lot of cases."

Snape leaned back, steepling his fingers together. He was silent for a long minute while the others watched him. Finally, he turned to Hermione. "I would like to hear your opinion on this Mrs. Granger."

"Hannah and Lavender for a certainty," Hermione said instantly. "If we frame it as protecting people like Daphne and Astoria, they'll be completely with us. Luna too."

Snape nodded, the indicated Neville. "Mr Longbottom."

"Yes to all of them,' Neville agreed. "They're our friends, and they've been with us through thick and thin. We need to tell them the truth. Even if they don't agree with us, I trust them enough not to betray us."

"Mr Weasley?"

"Why are you asking us? Aren't you entirely opposed to this whole sharing secrets thing?" Ron demanded.

Snape gave Ron a knowing smirk. "I asked your opinion first, Mr. Weasley. Indulge me."

Reluctantly, Ron nodded. "Yes. The situation at the Ministry is completely unstable. We have to recruit allies now. It's a dangerous gambit, but the payoff is huge."

"This may surprise you, but I have developed a small amount of respect for your instincts and abilities in our time together," Snape drawled. "If you feel it wise to do so, you have my blessing. You have been most astute and diligent in cultivating your allies. The recruitment of the Greengrass family went flawlessly this summer, largely thanks to your efforts, especially those of Mrs. Granger. You all do not lack for ambition. You would have done well in Slytherin."

Once, all four of the children would have taken deep offense at the insinuation that they belonged amidst the serpents. Now, however, they were best friends with several Slytherins, and deeply respected the Slytherin head of house. "Thank you sir," the four chorused.

Harry spread the word that the first meeting of the Defense Club this year was going to be a private affair. He also included Professor Tonks, remembering the conversation he'd had with her last year, and deciding that it was now or never in her case.

Underneath their robes, the four friends quietly put on their military uniforms, smuggled in by Sergeant Prewett for just the meeting. Afterwards they would be destroyed, but the message it would send would be worth it in Harry's opinion. The Sergeant and Bill would be nearby in case things really went south, but Harry didn't anticipate that.

The group assembled in Professor Tonks' newly redecorated History of Magic classroom. Gone were dusty blackboards and curtains, replaced with models of various historically important magical objects and monuments, moving dioramas students could view of important set pieces in magical history, like the making of the first Roman wand, and the Signing of the Statute of Secrecy. Harry wondered if perhaps he would be a little figure in one of these dioramas one day. He privately hoped not. Most of the people in them had come to unhappy ends.

Harry gazed out at his friends, smiling sadly. "I'm afraid that I have not been entirely honest with all of you for the past two years."

This caused everyone's attention to snap onto Harry with laser focus, save for the Weasley's, Hermione and Neville, who already knew what was going on.

"For the past two years, we've been friends. More than friends. We've been through a lot together. Brothers and sisters in arms. We've stood up to bullies, the ministry, even a Darth Stupidus a time or two. Some of us...some of us didn't make it to this point." There were nods and a few sniffs as everyone thought of who Harry spoke of. Dean and Seamus, dead. Daphne and Astoria, marked and exiled.

"But it is now time I told you my real, true purpose behind forming this club. Some of you may know this already, but I was adopted by an SAS Major and his wife. Tom and Alice McAlister." Harry choked up a bit saying the names, and he had to pause. He looked out again, meeting each of their eyes. Anthony. Blaise. Hannah. Lavender. Luna. Justin. Susan. Padma. Pavarti. Professor Tonks.

"My parents knew who I was. They knew what magic was. And they took me in and loved me anyway." Harry let that sink in for a moment.

"But...but your dad, he was a muggle," Susan said slowly. "How could he have known?"

"Because we know." Harry pulled his robe over his head, revealing his uniform. "We've known since the last war. We know another war is coming. And this time, we want to help."

Hannah suddenly gasped. "The men at my family's farm! Those muggles, the ones who killed Greyback. You know them!

"Yes," Harry said quietly. "I do. Her Majesty's Government and Armed Forces are aware of Voldemort. They are aware of threat he and his followers represent. And they will not be idle this time. What we...what I, am looking for, is friends who will help me stand against that Darkness."

"You saved my little brother," Susan said, sounding awed. "Those muggles who drove away Greyback, they knew what they were doing.

Hannah nodded, her eyes going wide. "It wasn't an accident they fought Greyback at my farm. You were keeping us safe, Harry, like you said you would."

"Me, personally, no," Harry said, raising a hand of caution. "I'm too young for combat operations yet, except to defend myself or those around me. I am a part of the unit that is working to counteract Dark Wizards and other threats. I'm not alone though."

Around the room, the others stood, taking off their own robes to reveal the muggle uniforms underneath.

"Bloody hell," Anthony swore, his eyes going wide.

Luna's eyes widened and she grinned wickedly. "Oh, this is too good. Not even father has come with a conspiracy this excellent."

Justin nodded sagely. "I knew the government couldn't be kept in the dark about this whole thing. It's just too big. Someone had to have seen a wizard with a camera and gotten a picture before now."

"I wondered when you'd fess up," Blaise drawled, leaning back. "My mums been muttering about an increase in muggle interest in wizarding artefacts. She's been making a killing. It's illegal of course, but then, the Zabini's are a crime family."

Padma and Parvati had put their heads together, but now separated and nodded. "Ok. So what does this mean?"

Biting her lip, Lavender looked around. "So...so is this some sort of join or die thing? Just wondering, really."

"We're not going to kill you if you don't join," Harry said gently. "We might obliviate you, but only if you won't promise not to tell. Bill's waiting outside for just that. You're our friends. I'd like to think no matter what, we'll always be friends. Which is why I'm telling you now. The way the Ministry is moving, they might decide to put a lockdown on all communication with the mundane world. If they do, I'm siding with the norms. Not the ministry."

After a moment, Anthony stood. "I'm with you, Harry. You've stuck by me no matter what. Took me in when every other friend turned their back. I'm not going to turn my back on you now."

Everyone else scrambled to their feet. "Well, obviously we were all going to pick Harry," Luna said, coming forward to inspect Harry's uniform. "I must say, I quite like it. But does it come in purple?"

Tears came to Harry's eyes. "You mean it? You all really mean it? You'll help me change the world so that everyone has a place, norms and maggie's alike?"

"Of course," Blaise said, winking. "The Zabini's always pick the winning side."

Susan grunted. "I just hope this is the winning side. From what I've heard from Auntie Emelia, the Ministry is mess. If Crouch and the anti-muggle faction get there way, things are going to get bad. As bad as they ever were under Darth Stupidus' reign of terror."

Ginny snorted and tossed her hair. "As if we're going to let that tosser win."

Ron and Neville growled their agreement. "Never again."

"Never again," everyone echoed.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/

 _Authors Note:_

 _Repeat after me: There is no such thing as a time turner, because it screws with the plot and causality way to damn much. If I ever had to write a time travel fic I would go well and truly mad trying to keep it all straight. In all honesty I think introducing Time Turners was the single biggest mistake JKR ever made plot wise, because it creates too many plot holes and possibilities while only being used for a relatively straight forward plot twist that could have been managed a number of other ways that were far less confusing and problematic._


	50. Chapter 49

**Chapter 49: The Opening Skirmish**

It was a quiet night in Martin's Heron. A light rain pattered down keeping visibility somewhat low, but the little street was quiet and peaceful. The noise of the rain obscured the quiet pop into the hedges, and Macnair quietly cast obscuring and disillusionment charms upon himself, mostly to keep muggles from noticing him. Silently, he stepped out of the rain towards the small house, his wand already drawn. He noted the security system and nodded. He had something of a respect for those systems, they had often ruined what could have been a very pleasant evening by calling the muggle authorities before he could get to the good bits. Taking out a small metal ball, found the power box and clicked the ball. Immediately, the house and the two next to it lost power. Satisfied, Macnair hexed the security system and charmed the door open, then cast muffling charms and obscuring charms. It was time to get to work.

Becky started awake. Something was wrong. She glanced at her nightstand and saw a red blinking light.

"Oh shite," she murmured, and got out her knife from under her pillow. The gun was locked away, and she didn't have time to get it out. It was probably nothing; she could still hear the storm outside but-

There was a creak, and Becky caught her breath. Someone was moving in the house. Becky rolled off the bed and silently opened her door. There, a dark shape moving towards her mother's room. She rushed forward, knife held in a fighter's grip.

Something was wrong. Macnair had felt his muggle repelling charms pop just after stepping inside. He hadn't cast them very strongly, wishing to not draw much power for fear it could alert someone, but they should have lasted for at least an hour. Still, they were only muggles inside. He started towards the largest bedroom. Some long honed instinct warned Macnair. Perhaps he saw a shadow, or heard a soft footfall, but at the last moment he spun and fired off a spell at the small figure darting towards him.

"Damn!" Becky rolled away from the spell behind a chair, grabbing a decorative ornament and chucking it at her opponent. He let out a muffled curse and fired a much more dangerous looking glowing red spell that exploded the couch Becky had paused behind. She lept around it, slashing at her foes abdomen.

"Merlin's balls!" Macnair snarled as red fire snaked its way across his chest. This little bitch had cut him! He lossed another curse, but she moved away again, slashing at his back. But now Macnair was ready, and he was experienced not just with fighting wizards, but goblins, hippogriffs, and other humanoids who fought with hand weapons. He conjured a protective barrier and threw a leg lock curse out. This one connected, and the girl fell.

Something invisible clamped around Becky's legs, and she was on the floor. She didn't stop moving though, even if her legs were frozen she was an expert athlete. She bounced up on her hands and used her bound legs as a club, slamming them into foes own legs and toppling him. Then she was off balance and down, and she scrambled for her knife to try and use it. Too late, her foe was up and over her. "Crucio!" Becky let out a scream, but it was muffled, silent. Something was wrong.

"Becky?" Her mother's voices said, but it too was all wrong, like she was hearing her from far away.

" _Slugulus Eructo."_ Mum was down, vomiting bile and filth. Becky tried to rise, tried to fight back, but-

A silent, dark shape lept up upon the intruder, white fangs gleaming in the darkness. Tonk had been out on the front porch, but he had heard the fight and come on silent paws. There were more muffled curses and spells, and in a moment, two bleeding bodies lay on the ground. One had its throat torn out, the other was a ragged man, vomiting black bile. He struggled towards Becky, and muttered " _Finite incantatum,"_ then collapsed.

Becky immediately stood, grabbing her knife, but before she could do anything else the door shattered into a thousand pieces and the action team stormed in. Calmly, Becky placed her hands on her head and lowered herself down, only to be hauled back up by team as they dragged her away.

"What happened?" the Lieutenant demanded as his team secured the two men on the floor. Even the one with his life's blood spilled out on the floor was handcuffed and restrained; the team was taking no chances.

"That one," Becky said, pointing to the dead man. "He snuck in and-"

"Macnair," wheezed the writhing individual who was still spewing the evil smelling substance. "Death eater. Becky...get away. Run. More...more could come."

"Who's this?" a soldier said, slamming the other wizard down. They already had his wand, but Becky stepped forward and pushed at the soldier.

"Leave him! That's Tock. Or at least I think-"

"This is Sirius Black!" The Lieutenant exclaimed, stepping back in shock. "But how-"

"Animagus. Sorry. Got lost. Dying. Get Becky, Alice. Go. Safety."

"Were you Tock?" Becky demanded, kneeling down.

Black grimaced and vomited more bile, but nodded weakly.

Blood rushed from Becky's face. Tock...Tock had been her dog. She'd bathed with him, let him into her home, to think he'd been a man this whole time was-

"We're here," a new voice said from the door, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley bustled in in their night clothes, wands out.

"See to him," the Lieutenant ordered. "We're taking Mr. Black into custody. The other goes in a body bag I think."

"Sirius!" Arthur Weasley gasped, then performed a few spells. The bile stopped coming out, but Sirius sank down, coughing weakly.

"That was a liver burster curse," Mrs. Weasley said darkly. "He's going to need a hospital, and soon, but he's likely dead. I'll see to Alice."

"Ambulance is on its way ma'am."

"This is Walden Macnair," Arthur Weasley declared, rising from the dead body. He'd rolled up the sleeves, and a glowing Dark Mark was visible.

"Looks like we bagged our first death eater," mused the Lieutenant. "First blood to you, Miss McAllister."

"It was Tock. That is, Sirius Black. He saved me. He said something about being an animagus, like Ginny and Hermione?" Becky directed her question to Mr. Weasley, who nodded.

"I suppose that makes a kind of sense. Pettigrew was secretly an animagus as well. The spattergroit must have driven him mad. Again. How long did you have the dog?"

Becky's mum came over, supported by a soldier and Mrs. Weasley. "Since the middle of May. Over four months now."

The thump of a chopper sounded, and two soldiers put Black on a stretcher and took him outside for evac. "Right, that's our transport. Come on, we're taking you to a more secure location. We've already got word to the school. The kids will be protected."

/\\\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Sergeant Prewett awoke as soon as his radio started buzzing. He picked it up and listened the the encoded morse message. DEATH EATER ATTACK AT MCALLISTER RESIDENCE STOP PREPARE FOR ADDITIONAL ATTACKS STOP NO FRIENDLY CASUALTIES STOP

He was out of bed and armed in a moment, banging on the small compartment next to his.

"William!"

The younger man was out, wand at the ready in a flash. "I got it. We alert the headmaster?"

Prewett hesitated, then nodded. "Do it. Full school alert."

Bill put his wand to his throat. "Lockdown. Suspected Death Eater Activity. I repeat, Lockdown. All students to remain in their quarters. All staff on full alert. Lockdown, I repeat, lockdown."

In the Chamber of Secrets, Draco Malfoy swore, and the basilisk twitched. "How did they know?" he raged. "How could they possibly know!" he stroked the serpent one more time. "Not tonight, my beautiful servant. Not tonight." Leaving the Diary in the chamber, Draco hurried back up the staircase, hissing in parseltongue as he did so. He'd been using the journal nightly for months, and by now he no longer needed to be holding it to commune with the wise spirit within.

Draco hightailed it out, where Pansy Parkinson was waiting with a blindfold in one of the stalls. "Get up," Draco snarled. "They suspect something. Get out of your clothes."

"What?" Pansy gasped, removing the blindfold to see Draco shucking off his own robes.

"Get undressed. Leave your underwear. Start snogging me. If they find us, we'll look like just two lovers. That should divert suspicion."

Pansy flushed, but nodded and complied. It was secretly what she'd though Draco had wanted when he'd talked her into these midnight patrols anyway.

A short time later, Bill Weasley and Professor Snape burst in, a parchment map clutched firmly in the Security Officer's hands. "Well, that explains why Malfoy looks like he hasn't slept in a week," Bill muttered.

Pansy let out a startled gasp and tried to cover herself with her robes, but Draco glared back sullenly at the two. All his plans for tonight come to a screeching halt due to these idiots. He felt a legitimacy tendril, and allowed it to see into his mind, only showing a randy desire for Pansy he didn't need to entirely manufacture.

"Back to the dungeons. Now," Snape growled. "Take your robes and follow us."

Sometime later, the Professors assembled in the Great Hall.

"All clear," Bill Weasley pronounced, spreading the Marauder's map out on the table. Fred and George had ceased to use it to plan pranks the previous year, instead searching out students who were being bullied or in need of help. This year, they'd given it to their brother, making him promise he'd never turn it over to anyone "respectable." Of course, they had their own full color version now, but no need to tell old Willie that.

"What prompted the alert?" Dumbledore asked. "I'm not upset young man, just curious. Did you use this marvelous map to find the two students out of bed?"

"The map is useful, but it didn't alert me. Harry's home was attacked," Bill explained, using the cover story he and Sergeant Prewett had cooked up. "I got a call from my father. He and my mother were visiting late. Alice is still not doing well. Macnair attacked them in the middle of the night. My parents stopped him, but they informed me and I decided we needed to ensure everyone here was safe."

"Sweet Merlin, is everyone alright?" Professor Sprout gasped.

Bill nodded. "They took Macnair home in a body bag though. My dad's alerting the ministry."

Snape started. "Macnair? Walden Macnair?" When Bill nodded, Snape grimaced. "This is a bad sign. He was the Dark Lord's executioner. If he was hunting McAllister blood, it was not at his own behest."

"The man was a vicious maniac," Tonks growled. "He could have been acting on his own."

Moody shook his head. "Severus is right, Nymphadora. I think we'll want to double up on nighttime patrols. Two teachers on alert at all times. No more prefects in the hallways after hours."

"A most sensible precaution," Dumbledore agreed. "Myself and Alastor will take the first watch tonight. I am an old man, and will sleep no more this evening. Thank you, everyone."

Few slept peacefully that night though. No one would have slept at all if they had known what stirred in the depths of the castle.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Macnair failed, my Master," Barty said, his face pressed against the cold stone of the basement. His body was covered in cold sweat and he trembled, fearing the wrath of his master. "The Weasley's happened to be at the house at the time, and defeated him."

"Were they?" the clacking corpse demon asked. "I wonder. Macnair was no fool. He would have known if wizards occupied the house."

Crouch hesitated. "You think the muggles killed him, my lord?"

"I am certain of it. In fact, I was counting on it. Open a full investigation, my Faithful servant. Leave no stone unturned. Let Macnair's death be a our rallying cry. Unite all beneath my banner, with the muggles as our foe of choice. Even the Great Old Fool would not oppose me in this."

"Yes, my master," Crouch said, rising slowly. "It shall be so."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

After the alert, things were a bit tense, but it also helped to unite the student body. It had been only two years since the deaths of two students and a professor, and even those who were inclined towards the side of the Dark Lord knew enough to fear what he might do to them at school. For two weeks, there was peace, and the Defense Club even started pulling in more members from Ravenclaw and Slytherin again as the news of Walden Macnair's death spread. However, once Rita Skeeter released a scathing peace blaming muggles for his death, tensions started to rise again.

"I don't get it. He was out to kill your family Harry, that much is obvious," Hannah said, peering over her new reading glasses with a disgusted look on her face. She'd just finished reading the morning paper her owl had delivered. "What does it matter if he was killed by muggles or wizards? The man was a monster, pure and simple."

"I think the tensions are finally bubbling back to the surface," Harry said quietly. "This is what I was talking to all of you about: We're going to have to choose a side. It looks like the Ministry is coming down on the side of the purebloods. Soon, they might be just as bad as Darth Stupidus."

"It's bringing back all the old fears," Neville said. "Think about all the stuff we've learned in history of magic or muggle studies if you take that, where the evil muggles burned witches and wizards or stoned muggleborns to death. Wizards and witches live a long time. Some of the older ones had relatives who died that way. They remember."

"But the world isn't like that anymore," Padma said, spreading jam over a slice of toast. "At least, not in Britain. Maybe in back in India in the more superstitious places, but I don't see a mob of british citizens burning a witch at the stake."

Blaise and Mafalda sat down, Blaise looking tired, and Mafalda as bubbly as usual. "Good morning," she chirped.

"Hows tricks?" Ron asked, studying Blaise's face.

"I had to bust a few heads, but people are leaving us alone," Blaise replied. "The new prefects have helped. They're Snape's pets, and he's made it clear he doesn't want us to be known as the house that doesn't take care of its own."

"I wonder if it would be safe for me to go back to Ravenclaw," Padma murmured, glancing longingly over at her old friend Sue.

"Not a chance," Pavati declared firmly. "Not after what they did to you last year and the year before. You still have that scar on your left heal." Her twin nodded reluctantly, and went back to her toast.

Aside from the sneers and occasional verbal barbs from Draco (who had lost a great deal of support when he was discovered snogging Pansy Parkinson in the girls toilet) everyone left Harry and his friends well enough alone. The older students who might have still had a chip on their shoulder did not miss the fact that Bill Weasley was now the head of security, and unlike the jovial Black, Bill was all business, all the time. Anyone stepping out of line, no matter their house, had the full wrath of a master curse breaker descend upon them. For the most part, people toed the line.

Of course, he was nothing compared the unholy hell that Charles Prewett had unleashed upon the poor, idiot Slytherin Seventh years he had caught bullying his daughter.

Blaise had been in Transfiguration, and Mafalda had been out to the toilet, when the two older boys had cornered her.

"Daughter of a squib? What are you doing in our house," a tall, scrawny boy named Xavier Rhoads had said, shoving Mafalda towards a wall.

Mafalda and flinched and tried to go around them. "Please, I have to get back to class," she begged.

Corvis Nott had laughed and spit on Mafalda. "Your little third year friend isn't here to protect you now. What are you going to do, mudblood?" He had then made a near fatal mistake: he had put a hand on Mafalda's head and shoved her to the ground. Corvis had just enough time to turn and see the livid face of the caretaker as he barreled around the corner.

What happened next was only witnessed by the victims and Sergeant Prewett, who calmly maintained that he had only given the boy a gentle rebuke. Neither of the victims had clear enough memories of what had happened to contest this (or were too terrified to do so). What was known was that Corvis' arm had to have the bones vanished and completely regrown, and that his jaw had needed more skele gro after being realigned. Xavier had drawn his wand and attempted to hex the squib caretaker. His wand's shattered remains were later found ground into the floor, and he had to spend three days in the hospital wing, nursing a concussion.

All Mafalda had said was, "Daddy saved me."

After that, only an idiot would have picked on her. As it turned out, even Crabbe and Goyle were not that dumb. Draco and Pansy Parkinson limited their taunts to verbal ones concealed as backhanded compliments, and never where the Sergeant might hear them.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The week before Halloween, Harry and the rest of the third year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were coming back from a late night astronomy class, when Harry paused.

"Do you hear that?" he said, cocking his head to one side.

 _Find the unworthy. Purge the traitors. Feast upon their bones._

"Hear what?" Ron said, stopping to listen.

 _Smell prey. Consume them. Hungry. So hungry._

"It's getting close. We need to run," Harry said. He turned away from the direction they'd been going and dropped his school supplies. "Run!"

Everyone followed, dropping their books as they went. Wands flew into hands, and Harry had out his gun, as did Ron. Something about that voice made his blood run cold. It wasn't human, he was certain. It sounded like…

 _Do not flee, little prey. Come, come to me. Look into my eyes…._

"It's a snake," Harry panted. "Come on. Don't look, it wants us to look."

They rounded a corner and found Mad Eye Moody stomping along. When he saw the fleeing students, he didn't ask questions, he just drew his wand. He looked at Harry, his face grim as his magical eye spun to look behind them. "What is-" then Moody froze, and toppled to the ground, his magical eye shattering.

Harry didn't turn to look, firing his pistol blindly. "Run! Don't look! It got Moody when he looked."

Someone let out a scream, but everyone kept fleeing for their lives. There was a loud hiss when Harry fired his last bullet, a hiss of pain and rage. Ernie looked into a reflective mirror, and froze himself, falling mid stride.

"Don't stop!" Ron bellowed, firing his own gun blindly now. "Cover your eyes if you can!"

" _Nebula_!" Hermione shrieked. "Cast the mist charm!"

There were more cries of _nebula_! Everyone ran on towards the kitchens as fast as they could, drawing ragged breath. Harry thanked his lucky stars every single one of them had gone on the morning runs and was in good shape, or whatever it was chasing them would have gotten them already.

"Here!" Susan cried, "Here, into the sett!"

More mist was conjured and Neville fired his own gun blindly. There was a roar of pain, and then the doorway was open. "Go!"

Everyone piled into the Hufflepuff common room, slamming the door behind them.

"Basilisk!" Susan cried as she stumbled up the stairs. "There's a basilisk in the castle!"

There was instant pandemonium. "Everyone into your dorms," Cedric Diggory cried. "Now! Gryffindors, go with the other third years. Prefects inside, pull the alarm bells."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/

Sergeant Prewett was on patrol himself when he heard the gunfire and hissing. He started to run towards the commotion, but paused when he came to the stone corpse of Moody.

"Oh Alastor," he breathed, looking down at the stone body of his old friend. "What could have gotten you?"

"Basilisk," one of the portraits nearby cried. "I saw it passing. Thank Merlin I didn't see the eyes. It was huge! Headed for the kitchens after the students!"

Prewett didn't pause, but he did swear colorfully as he ran for his office. Thankfully, it was on the way. He caught Bill Weasley running forward, though mist that filled the halls. "Stop! It's a bloody basilisk. I need my heavy gear, come on."

Bill Weasley's normally pale face turned milky white. "A basilisk? In the castle?"

"Yes, and you had best thank your lucky stars I brought anti-tank weapons," Prewett growled. He burst into his office, and cracked open his chest, pulling out two LAW 80 anti-tank weapons. He hurried back outside, handing one to Bill. "Know how to use this?"

"Point this bit at the bit you want gone?" Bill ventured.

Prewett nodded. "Good enough, and mind the backblast."

Both men sprinted off through the fog, until Bill called a halt. "Just up ahead," he whispered.

Prewett nodded, hearing distant sounds of hissing and battering. He shouldering the rocket, shouted, "Clear!" and fired. Flame and fire bloomed as an explosion rocked the castle, deafening both men. Tossing the first tube aside, Prewett grabbed Bills and pointed it down the corridor, firing once again. That done, he grabbed his rifle and stumbled forward into the dust and debris, Bill stumbling along at his side.

At the end of the corridor, they found a pile of rubble, and an enormous thrashing body.

"Don't look!" Bill said, grabbing Prewett and dragging him back. "It's wounded and in its death throes, but if it's got a working eye still and you look you're dead straight away."

It was only a few short minutes before Dumbledore sprinted up, Fawks flying beside him.

"Basilisk," Bill wheezed, kneeling down in the corridor. "Charles here got it, I think, but it's still dangerous. Don't think it got into the dorms, thank Christ."

"Got Alastor though," Prewett said calmly, his rifle still pointed down the corridor towards the still thrashing snake.

"I found young MacMillan as well," Dumbledore said, his voice sorrowful. "I do not understand. How did such a monster get in?"

"It didn't get past the wards. I just checked. They're intact, fine. Something this dangerous could never have got in, not after the modifications you made after the troll incident," Bill told the Headmaster.

"Then someone must have let it out," Dumbledore mused. "But how, why? I can only guess, but if it is truly a basilisk, it must have come from the Chamber of Secrets. It has not been opened in fifty years, but..."

"Where's that at?" Prewett asked.

"My dear sir, if that was known, it would not be called the Chamber of Secrets, would it? Now, you two gentlemen stay here." Dumbledore conjured a pair of thick glasses and put them on. "If I am petrified, Fawks will cry out to alert you. Otherwise, I must finish off this foul beast, and we must find the Chamber and Seal it for all time."

In the girls lavatory, Pansy Parkinson once again waited, blindfolded and nearly naked, her heart beating at a prodigious rate. Draco had been gone a long time now. She'd heard the monster go by half an hour ago, but still, she waited. Draco had sworn to clean out the school, and finally rid them all of McAllister and the mudbloods. She hoped he was right, hoped he could succeed.

She heard the groaning of the chamber opening, and smiled. Her precious Draco returned! At last, it was time. She would-

"Get up," a new, deeper, calmer voice said. "Take off the blindfold my dear. We must be leaving."

Slowly, Pansy reached up and removed the blindfold, the gasped. It wasn't Draco who stood over her. "Who, who are you?"

The older boy grinned, showing perfect white teeth. He ran a hand through his neat brown hair. "Why my dear, I am what Draco Malfoy wished to become. The heir of Slytherin."

"Where's Draco?" Pansy said, her voice trembling.

"Draco is no more. There is only I. Lord Voldemort." The boys grin was dark and wicked, and Pansy shivered in her knickers. "Put on your robe, quickly. Come. My time here is at an end. With any luck, Lamia will kill off most of my foes. But, even without that, there is little need to fear."

Pansy got dressed swiftly, then meekly followed after the boy out of the castle, and across the grounds to the forbidden forest. The boy lord raised Draco's wand, and the two of them vanished with a crack.

 _Authors Note:_

 _And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the proper way to use a basilisk. And kill one, for that matter._


	51. Chapter 50

**Chapter 50: Cracks in the Foundation**

With the basilisk confirmed dead, the Headmaster wasted no time in calling in the DMLE. The castle was searched, and the open chamber was found. Inside, they found only a single corpse: That of Draco Malfoy. Ernie Macmillan's petrified body was taken to Saint Mungo's to be treated, thankfully he had not perished. Only one other casualty was recorded: That of Alastor Moody, who had not died from the basilisk's gaze, but from when his magical eye exploded. Shards of it had passed through his petrified brain, and he was confirmed dead.

"You were damn lucky Albus," Amelia Bones said, clinging to her sobbing niece. "Damn lucky. That thing could have been unleashed at dinner time and killed every single last person in the castle."

"I am well aware, Director Bones," Dumbledore said quietly. "We were most fortunate that our Caretaker was so well prepared for just such an event."

"Normally I would lock up any idiot that brought smuggle weapons into a magical facility, but instead I think I'm going to put in for you to receive an Order of Merlin, First Class," Amelia said, squeezing Susan even tighter. "You saved a lot of lives tonight, Mr. Prewett."

"Just doing my job, ma'am," Prewett stated matter of factly. "William here was most instrumental in our success. No man acts alone."

"I think an Order of Merlin may be in the cards for the both of you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to spend some time with my niece."

"Headmaster, we have a problem," Snape said, coming over to stand with the other men. "I cannot locate Miss Parkinson."

"She was the bird with Malfoy in the loo, wasn't she?" Bill asked.

Snape nodded, curling his lip in disgust at the other man's choice of words. "Yes."

"Well, then I hate to say it, but maybe we should check the basilisk for any more human remains?" Bill looked at the other adults, who paled slightly. "I mean, I've dealt with these beasties before. It's not impossible one that size ate a girl."

Dumbledore sighed. "I fear you are right. Come. We will make our examination. William, Charles, search your map and see if you can find any trace of her."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/

Fear gripped Pansy's heart, and her knees knocked together. It was all she could do to force herself to stand up straight, as she gazed at the animated corpse before her. The corpse identified to her as Voldemort, by none other that Bartemius Crouch. "Do not fear, child. You have been chosen for a great honor."

Pansy looked pleadingly at the handsome young man beside her, the one who called himself Lord Voldemort as well. He smiled at her, but his smile was one of ice, and his eyes showed only hunger. If anything, it was more frightening than the rotting teeth of the corpse before her. "Indeed. I knew I chose well when I selected you, Pansy Parkinson. Your blood is pure, and you and your family served me faithfully in the past, did you not?" Young Voldemort turned away from her, regarding the corpse. "So this is what I become. Pathetic."

"What your tongue, boy," the corpse Voldemort hissed. "I have survived death itself. There is more knowledge and power within me than you can even dream of."

"I am aware. Hence, why I do not slay your weak shell of a host and claim your spirit as is my right. Still, your plan is not without it's beauty. The girl shall serve."

"Try to help her survive this. More than one vessel would be useful," The Corpse Lord said, reaching out a skeletal finger to trace it's rotting flesh along Pansy's cheek. She shuddered involuntarily, and found herself clinging to the living arm of Young Voldemort beside her.

"I am not you. I learned my lesson. Dead minions are of no aide. I must present a good face. You shall have your renewed Vessel in nine weeks time, as promised. By the New Year, we shall be ready."

"My lord, my lord what are you talking about?" Pansy stammered, looking up at the cold, handsome face.

Young Voldemort smiled, then bent down and kissed Pansy's fingers. "Why, your role in our upcoming order. You had your eyes on young Draco, wishing to be the wife of a powerful and noble wizard, did you not?"

Pansy nodded silently, fear gripping her heart.

"Well, instead, you shall be my Lady. The Dark Lady, to sit at the feet of the Dark Lord. Isn't that better?"

Pansy saw within those dark eyes, that she had but one answer she could give. She swallowed. "Yes, my lord."

Footsteps approached, and Crouch returned. Or rather, a different Crouch returned. This one was clearly related, but younger somehow. Pansy bit back a gasp of shock and horror when she realized it was Crouch Junior, thought long dead. Were all the dead coming back to life now?

"My Lords, my Lady. Freshly brought from Wales this morning by my house elf."

Pansy took the goblet that was handed her, starting in shock at the shining, silver blood within. The corpse Voldemort guzzled his, smacking his lips in delight. Young Voldemort dipped a finger into his own goblet, tasting the blood. He closed his eyes, groaning slightly with pleasure. Then he dipped his finger in once more, and Pansy opened her lips as he stuck it in her mouth. It burned with sinful sweetness, and Pansy felt horribly violated, but she licked her lips and forced a smile.

"Do not drink it yet," he purred, taking Pansy's face in his hand, tracing a line of silver blood on her cheek. "It is for the child. Later, once we have finished, we shall drink together."

 _Child?_ Pansy thought. Her mind was blank as Crouch took the goblets back, and Young Voldemort escorted up her up the bedroom. Somehow, it stayed blessedly blank, all throughout the rest of long, horrific hours of that unspeakable day.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Sirius Black groaned and awoke, feeling his head swim. How? How was he still alive? Macnair's curse should have killed him. His only hope was that Becky and Alice got away somehow. He looked around at the strange tubes and bags, heard the odd beeps and clicks, and wondered where he was.

"Subject is awake," a calm voice said. A dark face with calm eyes peered into Sirius' own, shining a light into both his eyes. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr. Black. You were touch and go for a while there. Still, it appears that the transplants have taken. Taken quite well in fact."

Sirius tried to speak, but all that came out was a raspy groan.

"Do not attempt to speak. You have been in a medical coma for nearly two months. I am Doctor Kopula Patil. Perhaps you have met my nieces, Padma and Parvati? It is a rhetorical question, Mr. Black, do not attempt to answer it. A nurse will be by to assist you shortly, you are doing very well. In any pain?"

Black nodded slowly. Everything hurt.

"Hmm. I'll just add an order for a morphine drip then. We need you to heal up."

For two days, doctors and nurses came in and out, caring for Sirius. Slowly, he regained his voice, and was able to ask a few questions. "Is Becky alive?" was his favorite, followed by "How is Harry?" None of the doctors and nurses could answer either.

On the third day, the very person Sirius had longed to see came, accompanied by her mother.

"Becky!" Sirius grasped, his eyes filling with tears. "Thank Merlin. You're alive."

"I am," Becky said quietly, pulling up a chair and sitting down by Sirius. She regarded him with a somber expression. "I'm not sure whether I should slap you or hug you, Tock."

Sirius blinked. "I'm not Tock at the moment, sorry. Though I might just change back as soon as I can. It's simpler, being a dog. Easier that way."

"Why?" Becky asked, her voice calm, but her eyes flashing with anger.

Sirius thought long and hard about his answer, which was difficult through the haze of potions that he'd been given by these healers. "Because I was dying."

That seemed to give Becky pause. "What do you mean?"

"Spattergroit. I was dying. Untreated spattergroit, it's always fatal. At least to humans. As a dog I was pretty sure I couldn't pass it on. So, I went to check on Harry's family. Make sure you were alright. Alright, before I...before I died."

Alice looked ready to explode, but Becky touched her mother's arm in a silent calming gesture and frowned and Sirius. "You wanted to take Harry away."

"At first," Sirius admitted. "But after what happened to your dad...I couldn't. I wanted to be there for Harry, for you, for Harry's family. I grew to admire Tom as I got to know him. He was a good man. James would have been glad to know his son was raised by a man like Tom. In the end, I wanted to be there, to promise Tom that I'd see Harry was looked after. That you all were, that he never had to worry about me taking Harry away. But I couldn't, not when that Greasy Git poisoned me."

"Snape told us you were going to try to get custody of Harry," Becky said, studying Sirius' face.

He flushed, snarling in a most dog like fashion. "That lying bastard! I told him before I went into the floo I wanted nothing but to help Harry and comfort him. I didn't want to take him away, I wanted to be his godfather! I couldn't part him from you and your mother, not after he lost the only father he'd ever known."

Becky's expression softened. "That means someone is lying."

"Well believe who you want, I don't care. As soon as I'm out of this hospital, I'm going back to being Tock. Maybe after I kill Snape."

"You saved my life, Mr. Black. But I think it's best that Tock the dog died that night." Becky's smile was faint, but it was there. "I don't I could ever bathe with you or let you lick my face again."

Sirius looked up at Alice, who's eyes were flashing with rage. "Oh! Um, I uh, I…" Sirius swallowed and started again. "Listen, when I'm a dog, I'm a dog. Well, not quite, but close enough. I'm mostly color blind, I think like a dog, I act like a dog. Do it for long enough, and you become a dog. Start to forget how to be human. So I mean, you were taking a bath with Tock, just Tock. Not me. Also, you were wearing a bathing suit. Just thought I'd point that out."

"Do it again, and I'll get one of my husband's guns and blow your expensive transplanted liver and spleen all over this nice clean room," Alice said, in a voice that was as dark as Black's own name.

"Yes ma'am," Black agreed hastily. "Sorry ma'am. I swear, I don't think of your daughter in that way. She's like my own goddaughter. I swear."

Becky smiled a bit more fully this time, and nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Black. For being my dog. I really need it at the time. And for saving my life."

"Does Harry know?" Sirius asked.

Becky shook her head. "We haven't told him. Not yet. He isn't' terribly fond of you at the moment, and finding out you slept in his bed and lived with his sister and mother probably won't help things. Plus…" Becky paused, her face growing concerned. "Last week, there was another attack. A basilisk at the school."

"A _basilisk_?" Sirius tried to sit up. "Is Harry OK? What about the other kids? Are they alright."

"Calm yourself, Mr. Black," Alice said, a bit of the venom in her voice gone. "Two students died. Draco Malfoy, and Pansy Parkinson. Ernie Macmillan was paralyzed, but survived. Alastor Moody is dead as well."

"Oh." Sirius settled back, feeling slightly dazed. "Draco and Pansy are no big loss. I mean, yes, they're kids, but they're Slytherin scum suckers who would cozy up to Moldyshorts in a heartbeat. Alastor...that's hard. But he was a hard man, and I can only assume he died on his feet, trying to protect the kids."

"Harry said he he saw the basilisk with his magical eye. That was how they knew what it was, because it petrified him and Harry already knew it was a snake," Becky explained. "He probably saved Harry and the other's lives."

"Good." Sirius shuddered slightly, then looked up. "So what are you going to do with me? I can't imagine you'll turn me loose. I may have been Tock, but I did hear all about your little conspiracy to overthrow the Ministry. Personally, I can't stand the lot of the bastards, but I don't think you'll ever really trust me again."

"That remains to be seen," Becky said. She smiled and winked. "But personally, I've never been in favor of putting down old dogs, even when they've been bad."

With that, the McAllister women left, leaving Sirius to brood and worry. A basilisk at Hogwarts? _Harry, please be OK. I want to see you. One last time, at least._

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

At Hogwarts, classes had been canceled for a full week while the school as turned upside down by DMLE and the Chamber of Secrets fully investigated. A lot of rather dark artefacts were rumored to have been found and removed, along with the corpse of Draco Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy himself had come to collect the body of his son, looking shocked more than anything else. He had silently taken the body, tears running down his face. He had kissed the face of his son once, then disappeared. Draco would be buried in a private family ceremony.

A vigil was still held for the two slain students and a funeral for Alastor Moody. Pansy's body had never been found, but it was widely agreed she had been slain as well. A lot of old aurors turned up for Moody's ceremony, including the Minister for Magic (though it was rumored he would not last the next month). Fudge looked grim and foreboding, and his remarks were limited to praising Moody's dedication and vigilance.

At the end, it was Tonks who stood and raised her wand. "Constant Vigilance!" she cried, tears running down her face.

The stood end body roared out the cry behind her. "Constant Vigilance!"

On a whim, Harry walked up to the stand. No one stopped him, though several people eyed him curiously as he looked out at the crowd. "I don't have a speech. I just wanted to say thank you. The lessons we learned from Professor Moody saved our lives. If it hadn't been for sacrifice, I never would have realized the snake I heard chasing us was a basilisk until it was too late. He was a great man. Constant Vigilance." With that, Harry went and sat back down with the rest of the students.

The rumors of course, had already started before Harry made his impromptu speech. He'd already confessed to his closest friends that he was a parselmouth, and clarified that he'd not told them mostly because it never came up before.

"To be perfectly frank, I do not give a good god damn," Justin had said. "It saved our lives back there. You could speak vampire or something and if it had helped, I'd be all for it."

Still, the editorial that came out from Rita Skeeter on the "Boy-Who-Spoke-Snake" was not very flattering at all. A few people might have given Harry a hard time about it, but Draco and Pansy were both dead. Whatever hangers on they had acquired had vanished. Crabbe and Goyle looked particularly lost, as if they were two dogs whose master had abandoned them. To Harry's amusement, Luna deposited a copy of the quibbler at breakfast, with an article that read, "The Lost Art of Speaking to Snakes: How Parseltongue Saved The Boys Who Lived."

"I suppose it isn't completely useless," Hermione had remarked upon seeing the article, though later Harry saw her reading it and smiling.

That evening, Professor Dumbledore tapped his glass for quiet. "I have an announcement to make. Due to the untimely loss of Alastor Moody, the Ministry and the Board of Governors have appointed a new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. Please welcome Professor Umbridge."

A smiling, red cheeked elderly witch in bright pink robes stood and smiled. She reminded Harry faintly of someone's idea of a charming young grandmother. Everyone clapped politely, then went back to their meals. She definitely was no Alastor Moody.

"Hem, hem, hem!"

At first, everyone ignored the silly sounding cough, until Professor Dumbledore sighed and tapped his glass again. "It seems Professor Umbridge would like to speak a few words."

Now slightly disgruntled, the students set down their food once again to listen.

"Due to the recent horrific events at the school," Professor Umbridge began in a tone more suited for speaking to a group of Year 1 students than a hall full of teens, "the Ministry has decided it is time for a more involved hand in the education of Hogwarts students. Please note that in addition to being the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, I am also the Hogwarts High Inquisitor."

"That does not sound ominous at all," Anthony Goldstein said in a dry tone.

"As the High Inquisitor, it will be my place to be the personal eyes and ears of the Wizengamott and the Minister here at Hogwarts. I am to ensure that all educational decrees are followed. There is one, special decree, issued this morning that I wish to inform you all of. Starting now, all mention of Hogwarts events or classes with muggles is strictly forbidden. Doing so will result in your expulsion."

There was a sudden sharp outcry from the entire hall, even from a few Slytherin students. There were plenty of half bloods in Slytherin, and a few of them had muggle parents or relatives.

Umbridge ignored this. "Due to increasing security risks from the muggle world, this is the first of many such orders from the Chief Warlock himself, Bartemius Crouch. Students will, of course, still be allowed to go home with their parents during the holidays and summer, but during the school year contact with muggles, even parents, must be minimised. This will also aide in the integration of muggleborn students into the magical world." With that, Umbridge sat and began eating.

"Are you having one on us?" A loud voice demanded.

Umbridge half choked, and glared down the head table to where Professor Tonks was giving her an incredulous expression. "These are kids. And some of them are pretty young. You can't go expelling a kid for writing their mum and and about what they did at school. That's nonsense."

"Are you questioning the word of the Chief Warlock, Professor Tonks? Because I must warn you, I shall be conducting evaluations of all our staff, and failure to show loyalty to the magical order could be construed as grounds for dismissal."

Tonks pointed to Dumbledore. "I work for him, not you, Granny Pink."

"Ladies, this is neither the time nor the place," Dumbledore said firmly. "Let us discuss this further later."

Tonks grumbled under her breath, glaring daggers at Umbridge, who happily went back to eating her soup.

After dinner, the senior members of the Defense Club turned up in the History of Magic classroom, where Professor Tonks was busy planning lessons. She looked up, surprised but pleased to see her students. "Wotcher, Harry. What do you lot want?"

"Just to let you know we have your back," Harry said firmly. The others all nodded.

"I don't know much about this High Inquisitor Lady, but I already don't like the title," Anthony Goldstein said. "Historically, my ancestors have had rocky relationships with people called inquisitors."

Tonks smiled warmly and shook her head. "Don't go butting heads with a professor kids. Maybe she'll turn out to be alright. After all, Barty Crouch isn't a bad person, or a bad wizard. He was quite the auror in his day. His hand picked teacher can't be all that bad."

She was, in fact, much worse.

"Please take out your new, Ministry Issued Textbooks, defensive magical theory. We shall begin reading in chapter 1," Umbridge declared.

Harry dutifully took out his book, and Umbridged called upon someone to read. After they read the first section, Lavender raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Brown?" Umbridge said in a cheery tone.

"Well, I was wondering, the book says you can learn defense without actually casting a spell at all, will we get to try out more martial arts? Harry's been teaching us and-"

"Five points from Gryffindor!" Umbridge spat, her normally cheery expression turning dark and ugly. "Do not speak of such barbaric practices in this classroom! Those are filthy, muggle created things that no proper witch or wizard would ever learn!"

The outburst took Lavender by surprise, and as usual when confronted with a shock, Lavender babbled. "Well, they're really useful you see, they helped us escape from that basilisk and when we-"

"Ten more points from Gryffindor, and a detention!" Umbridge declared. "The next individual to speak of such wretched muggle practices will get to join Miss Brown!"

"But she's just talking about what we've learned," Parvati protested. "Why are martial arts so bad?"

"It is enough that the Official Ministry Representative had declared them to be base and unworthy of you," Umbridge said, her haughty air coming back. "You will join Miss Brown in detention, Miss Patil."

Harry worked his jaw, but coughed and got his friends attention. He shook his head and mouthed the words "not now." This wasn't the time or the place to pick a fight with Umbridge. Not in her own domain.

Reluctantly, everyone quieted and they continued reading from the book, section after section, until the chapter was done. When they finished, Hermione raised her hand. When Umbridge nodded to her, Hermione said, "Professor, the author outlines several interesting theories of defense. I was wondering if you could expound on his ideas that a passive approach to defense is best."

"That is tonight's homework," Umbridge said, smiling sweetly at Hermione. "I look forward to the interesting perspective of a muggleborn such as yourself on these highly complicated manners, Miss Granger. Class dismissed."

"She didn't," Ron said, coming to his feet, his face beet red.

"She did," Neville affirmed, his own jaw set stubbornly.

Harry put a hand on his friend's shoulders. "Not here. Not now. Come on. We're having an emergency club meeting."

Outside of the great hall, all the defense club members, even the new first years, huddled together in a large circle.

"Right. So, first things first: Don't antagonize Umbridge. She's here to cause problems for us, especially those of us who are muggleborn," Harry declared, firmly placing himself in that group despite technically being a half blood himself. "You don't need or want that kind of attention from her. Keep your head down in class, no matter how infuriating she is to you. Second, we're going to have to step up our own training. Obviously, she's-" Harry cut himself off as Umbridge flounced up, her delicate steps in her fuzzy toed shoes clacking loudly on the stone floors.

"What is this? A student gathering?" Umbridge said.

Thinking fast, Harry bowed his head and crossed himself. "Our father, who art in heaven," he began, and several students, catching on to what he was doing, joined in. Even those who had never been to church, such as Hermione, hemmed and hawed along with the prayer. At the end of the prayer, Harry looked up and smiled at Umbridge, who was glaring at him. "Oh, hello there professor. Just saying our prayers before the meal."

"Hmph. Well, I wanted to inform you all that by ministerial decree, all students are required to sit with their houses at all mealtimes. I've noticed that your little group likes to cross the lines, and that simply will no longer be tolerated.

Harry's smile slipped for a moment, but he caught himself and nodded amicably. "Oh, of course High Inquisitor."

The students all watched as Umbridge walked in, nose held high. Harry watched her with narrowed eyes.

"That ugly bi-" Ron began, but Harry cut him off.

"Don't provoke her. We'll bide our time."

Later that evening, Pavati and Lavender hobbled back into class, tears in their eyes as they held hands with dark purple welts on them.

"What happened?" Hermione demanded, springing up out of her chair to rush over to the two girls.

"She had us write lines," Parvati said, choking back her sobs. "Something was wrong with them."

"Blood. We were writing in blood," Lavender wept, showing the back of her hand. The sores read: I must not tell lies.

"What lies?" Ron demanded.

"That muggle martial arts work," Lavender sniffed.

Parvati held up her own hand. It read: I must trust the ministry. "And I must not question the word of our glorious leader."

Harry ground his teeth. "Right. Tomorrow we have to go to Sergeant Prewett with this. She can't do this. It has to be illegal."

Everyone nodded, satisfied with this solution. Privately, Harry raged. Had the ministry really gone so bad that it was willing to torture children?


	52. Chapter 51

**Chapter 51: Tickling the Dragon**

Dumbledore was quietly working on some early morning paperwork when his door banged open. "She has got to go Albus. Now."

Dumbledore paused, his quill halfway in the inkpot. "I'm sorry Minerva, who has to go?"

"That filthy, wretched spy!" McGonagall spat, stomping over with murder in her eyes. She bent over, getting on eye level with the headmaster. "That woman has a blood quill, Albus. A blood quill! And she's already used it on five students!"

Dumbledore blinked. "No. That cannot be. Such an artefact is forbidden."

"Do I need to drag my two students up here? Pomona is with her two, and Filius is tending to his. They have the markings, Albus. All of them had detention last night. All of them, forced to use a blood quill."

Now Dumbledore felt himself growing enraged. "She dared to bring such a thing into my school?" His eyes flashed. "Take evidence. Get student testimonies. Say nothing to her. No, Minerva, nothing. I want this woman ruined, and kicked out of my school. If we can prove she used a blood quill on students, it will be the end of her. Bartemius Crouch has fought dark wizards all his life. He if he knew his chosen agent was using such a thing, he would three times deny her."

McGonagall hesitated, then nodded. "That is good enough. As long as she hurts no more children."

"I may have to allow her, Minerva, that I may catch her in the act," Dumbledore said. He sighed at her glare. "It is not permanent harm if only done once. It is a hideous act to be sure, but it will simply be another nail in her coffin. It is for the greater good of all students, Minerva. Warn yours to be very careful, however. I do not want to risk them unduly."

"Very well, Albus," McGonagall agreed. "I hope we don't regret this."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/

The next morning, Sergeant Prewett and Bill Weasley were nowhere to be found. "More dead unicorns in the forest," Hagrid told Harry when he asked during class. "Mr. Prewett and Bill are out lookin' for any clues. Drained o' their blood though. Bad business that. Right, you lot gather round here. We're learnin' about a right fascinatin' critter today. This here is a salamander. Dead useful, salamanders. Breath fire too. Now make sure you've got your flameproof aprons and robes on, and you'll get a chance to feed 'em. They like to eat coal they do, and you've all got a nice bag right there."

As such, Harry quietly advised everyone to keep their heads down in DADA, and to not irritate Umbridge. At some point, they had to get word to a teacher about what was going on, but Harry figured it could at least wait a day or two as long as everyone kept their noses clean.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"Professor?" Mafalda raised her hand, her eyes blazing. "Why does the book say people without magic have no right to defend themselves?"

Umbridge beamed at the young Slytherin and gave her the most grandmotherly smile she could. "Why, because muggles aren't really people, dear, or didn't you know that. Neither are squibs really. More like animals."

Mafalda stood up, her face going bright red. "My mum's a muggle, and my dad's a squib, and they're both people! They're lovely people, and they have every right to defend themselves! I'm going to be a powerful witch, and I'll defend them everything!"

"Why my dear, as a muggleborn with a squib father, it's surprising you have any magic at all. Your sort is very lucky, and you should be grateful that you've managed to become a proper person at all. Why waste your time on simpletons who lack even the most basic magic? Two points from Slytherin."

"Shut up!" Mafalda screeched "Shut up shut up shut up! My dad is ten times better than you and he could take you in a fight with one hand behind his back."

"Ten points from Slytherin!" Umbridge sweetly. "And detention. After class."

"When my dad hears about this, he won't make me have detention!" Mafalda declared.

"And no dinner. Looks like you're just adding to the lines you'll have to do young lady. I suggest you calm down, before I'm forced to make you."

Seething with anger, Mafalda sat back down and sullenly picked up her book, though she refused to read it. Several of the Slytherins gave her sympathetic looks, and the Ravenclaws were even a little sorry for her. They all knew who her father was, and they all considered him a genuine hero, even if he was as squib. After all, he had slain a basilisk. What had this witch ever done that was so great?

After class, Mafalda sat in her seat, fuming. Umbridge walked over, plucked away her own quill and ink, and set an odd, twisted looking black quill on the table. "You shall right, I must not tell lies. A hundred times should do it, I think."

"I didn't lie. My dad's a hero, and my mum's amazing."

"Two hundred. Keep talking back, and it will only add to your burden."

With sniff of anger, Mafalda picked up the quill and started to write. She gasped in shock and dropped it as pain filled her hand. "What, what is it?" she stammered. "It's evil!"

Umbridge waved her wand, and Mafalda found herself compelled to continue.

"Three hundred. Perhaps you might finally learn."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Ron, have you seen Mafalda? She wasn't with her classmates," Blaise said, coming over to the Gryffindor table.

Ron frowned and shook his head. He turned to Ginny. "You seen Mafalda, sis?"

"No, not since lunch, but she was with you then, Blaise."

"Right, I'll go ask the other firsties and the prefects."

In a moment, Blaise came back, his face pale. "She's with Umbridge. She got detention for defending her father.

Ron swore and stood. "Come on, we've got to find Sergeant Prewett. Percy, Fred, George, come on."

The Weasley's all stood and came after. Ron waved Harry and Hermione back. "You stay here. If the Sergeant shows up, get him to Umbridge's office straight away."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

It had been a long miserable day in the forest for Charles Prewett. He'd talked to centaures, tracked unicorns all bloody day (and since neither he nor Bill were female virgins it was a pain the arse) and stumbled through the bush for hours with nothing to show for it except two more dead unicorns.

"Ah, Charles, Bill, cup a tea?" Hagrid called from his cabin. "Stayin' in for dinner tonight. Salamander stew! Very spicy, good for yer nose and such."

"Yeah, thanks Hagrid," Bill agreed, having acquired a taste for Salamander in Africa, where they were raised for their meat.

"None for me thanks. I'll just head up to the hall for dinner," Prewett said. He was halfway there when Percy and Ron pelted up to him.

"Umbridge," Percy gasped. "Umbridge has Mafalda."

Prewett frowned "If she's in trouble I'm afraid I can't just intervene even if I am her father. She'll have to learn to get by on-"

"Torture," Ron wheezed. "She's using a blood quill. Torturing students. Wanted to tell you earlier. Couldn't find you."

Prewett's blood ran cold. "Torture. My little girl?"

Percy and Ron both nodded. "Forces her to write in her own blood. Permanent scars if she does it too much."

Prewett broke into a dead run for the Defense room, his two cousins hot on his heels. When Bill saw the three running over the field, he set his own soup down and ran after, puffing to try to catch up, but only falling further behind.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Mafalda was weeping now. She'd written over 100 lines, and blood was oozing from the back of her hand. Still, because of the compulsion charm, she could not stop herself. Her pen traced the words, "I will not tell lies" once again.

"Please," she wept. "Please make it stop."

"Oh no, I don't think we've quite learned our lesson yet," Umbridge said brightly, pouring herself a cup of tea with a light blue porcelain kettle. She smoothed her lace doily, and sipped, smiling benignly at the girl. "You've 165 more to go."

Suddenly the door slammed open, and Sergeant Prewett surged into the room, his eyes blazing with anger. He took one look at his weeping child, blood coating the paper in front of her and dribbling from his hand, and he whirled on Umbridge.

"Daddy, daddy please, I can't stop," Mafalda wailed. Umbridge just smiled, her eyes flashing dangerously.

Umbridge smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. "Yes, Mr. Prewett?"

"This is over. Now. I'm taking my daughter away from here. Whatever you've done to her, cancle it. Now."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Umbridge said, her smile still firmly in place. "She's been a very bad girl, and she has to finish her punishment."

"Last chance. Cancel the charm, and destroy that quill."

Umbridge stood, her eyes sparkling with malice. "How dare you, you filthy squib! You and your mudblood daughter have no right to-"

The motto of Hogwarts was "Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon." The exact meaning has been debated for centuries, but the general idea of it seems to be do not go borrowing trouble. On the grand list of kinds of trouble one should avoid, threatening the family of a dangerous man tops the list.

And Sergeant Prewett was a very dangerous man.

Umbridge never finished telling Sergeant Prewett what he had no right to. He drew his pistol and shot her, twice. Once, right between the eyes, the second time straight through where her heart would have been, if she had one. She was dead before she hit the ground.

That was how Bill Weasley found his cousin, with a literal smoking gun in his hand, standing over the dead body of the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts. Without preamble, Bill drew his wand. "What are you doing?!"

Percy put out his hand. "Bill, put that away."

Ron nodded. "Yeah. She was torturing Mafalda."

For his part, Prewett said nothing, only going over to his weeping, still writing daughter, and prying the quill from her hand. SHe continued to struggle to write, even when it was gone. "Will someone please come over and cancel this infernal spell?" He demanded.

Bill, being a cursebreaker, saw what had happened. He swallowed and came over, canceling the compulsion charm. Mafalda collapsed into her father's arms, sobbing and cradling her wounded hand.

"Sir, I've got to take you in," Bill said quietly. "What Umbridge did was wrong. But what you did…"

"Damn Umbridge," Prewett growled. "Damn the ministry, and damn the headmaster." He looked at his two younger cousins, who were standing with grim faces near the door. "Get the others. We're leaving. Now."

They ran off without a word, leaving Bill and Prewett alone.

"I'm going," Prewett said. "This is war now. They've tortured my own daughter. I've had it. Are you coming?"

Bill hesitated, then shook his head. "No. I'm sorry sir, but I can't. Charles...you're family. I won't stop you. But I can't help you either."

Prewett nodded, and stuck out his hand. Bill shook it. "I hope we never had to fight each other, William. You're a good man." And with that, Prewett left, holding his sniffling baby girl, leaving a trail of her blood behind him.

Bill sank to the floor next to Umbridge, looking at her body with horror. It had begun. Here in England, it had begun. Muggles were actually killing witches and wizards.

"Magic have mercy on us all," Bill whispered.

It started quietly. Fred and George had come back after searching the castle with their map with no luck. Then Percy and Ron ran in, and started spreading the word. Blaise stood up from the Slytherin table and came over. Then Padma, Penelope, and Antony from Ravenclaw. Then Susan, Hannah, Luna, and Justin from Hufflepuff. Then all the Gryffindors; Lavender, Hermione, Harry, Neville, and Parvati. Together, they started walking out.

Bill Weasley skidded into the hall, running up to the headmaster and whispering furiously in his ear. The escaping students saw, and broke into a run.

At first, Dumbledore was in shock. His caretaker had killed the Defense Professor? All of Harry and Neville's friends were leaving?

"Stop!" Dumbledore roared, coming to his feet. "Stop at once!"

But it was too late, they were already through the doors and running towards Hogsmeade.

"Tonks, Severus, McGonagall, Filius, with me! The rest of you, get the students to their dorms at once!" Dumbledore ordered as he began running for the door.

Professor Sprout blinked. "What has happened?" She called after the headmaster.

"Murder! Murder most foul!" Dumbledore cried as he sped after the fleeing students, his chosen professors hard on his heels.

Dumbledore caught the escapees just before the gate. With a trust of his wand, he raised an earthen mound, blocking their way. "Mr. Prewett! Stop at once! Students, return to the castle. You shall be dealt with later."

It was Harry who turned first and spoke. "No, Professor. We will not."

"No?" Dumbledore blinked, confused. "What do you mean, no? You are not in trouble. No one could implicate you in this. I understand there were extenuating circumstance. Please, Mr. Prewett, if you surrender yourself now, I can help you. Set your daughter down, and let us talk."

"No sir," Prewett stated firmly. "I'm not going back to that hell hole. Not with my daughter. And not with these kids. They've made a choice, and it isn't your isolated, xenophobic world that tortures children and murders innocent families just because of their imaginary blood status. They're coming with me, to fight for freedom."

"What are you babbling about?" Dumbledore demanded. "The ministry will hunt you down, you cannot hide from them."

"We won't be hiding," Harry declared. "We'll be doing what you and the ministry have lacked the will to do: taking the fight to Voldemort, rooting out his followers, and destroying them. We'll make all of Britain equal, for everyone. Maggie, norm, no matter what their blood."

"You speak of going to the muggles!" Professor Flitwick squeaked. "But that would violate the statute!"

"Damn the statue!" Prewett roared. "And damn any man or woman that would defend it! It's the bloody statue Umbridge was using as a justification to become inquisitor, and she used her power to torture my daughter. Look at her!" Prewett held up the bloody hand, causing the other professors to gasp. "Look at Parvati! Look at Lavender!" The two girls held up their own scarred hands. "Did you not notice? Are you so blind?"

"We noticed," Dumbledore said. "We were collecting evidence, preparing to-"

"And you let my daughter be tortured? Coward." Prewett turned around. "Come on kids, over the barrier."

Dumbledore waved his wand, and a row of thorn bushes appeared. "I cannot let you go," he said firmly. "The muggles cannot be told anything. This is a magical problem, and we shall solve it, magically. I am sorry, Charles, but you must return and face the consequences of your actions. All of the children will have to return as well."

The students drew their wands, their faces determined. "We are not going back, Professor," Harry said once more.

"Then you shall be compelled. Professors, make ready," Dumbledore ordered.

"Are you sure this is the right thing, Headmaster?" Harry demanded, his wand pointed right back at the ancient wizard. "Are you going to let the ministry torture kids? What's next? Murder? Dean and Seamus are already dead, so is professor Moody. What's a few more bodies if it keeps the secret?"

From Dumbledore's left, he heard Tonks mutter, "The right thing."

"Stunners only," Dumbledore ordered. "These are our students."

"The right thing," Tonks repeated.

Nodding, the headmaster sighed. "Yes. I am certain. This is the right thing."

He never felt Tonks stunner. The rest of the staff were too shocked to react properly, save perhaps for Snape, who suddenly relaxed his guard, allowing a body bind from Ron and Neville to take him out. Tonks was young, with incredible reflexes, and the students on the other side of the line of professors were as good as many duelists themselves. All the Hogwarts professors, save Tonks, went down under a barrage of incapacitating spells.

Tonks looked down, her face ashen as she started at the crumpled form of her colleagues. She looked up at Harry, her face contorted with grief.

Harry nodded. "Do the right thing, Professor."

Swallowing, Tonks nodded and waved her wand. The line of thorn bushes withered.

"Up and over kiddos," Prewett called, and he lead the way, still carrying Mafalda.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Rufus Scrimgeour lept from the floo, his eyes blazing as he strode forward. "What's going on?" He demanded of the oldest Weasley boy.

"Umbridge is dead. Mr. Prewett shot her. He caught her using a blood quill on his daughter."

"A blood quill? Shot her? But how? Prewett's a squib."

"He shot Umbridge using a gun," Bill repeated. "He's a spy for the muggle government. He's taken Harry McAllister, my brothers and sisters, and a few other students with him. I think they're fleeing for Hogsmeade."

"What?" Scrimgeour turned back toward the floo. "We'll need reinforcements. You stay here. I'm going to have to sort this out myself."

Five minutes later, a dozen aurors apparated into Hogsmeade. It didn't take them long to locate the group of Hogwarts students, they had all holed up at the train station.

"Surrender!" Dawlish shouted, his voice amplified. "You're cut off and surrounded. Aurors will take you into custody to be returned to the ministry. Put down your weapons and surrender immediately."

There was a shout back describing several anatomically impossible acts that Dawlish could do to himself, and his female relations.

"If you do not surrender you will be taken by force," Rufus shouted over the gusting wind that had kicked up, magically modifying his own voice.

"You poor stupid bastards. Hasn't anyone ever told you never to pick a fight when the other side has aerial superiority?" the same voice called back.

"What aerial superiority?" Scrimgeour growled.

Dawlish looked up, paling. "Bloody hell sir, what are those?"

Low across the treetops flew a dozen helicopters, three transports and nine attack birds. Most of the aurors hadn't a clue what they were, other than that they were some muggle contraption. A few raised wands and fired off shots, but the hellis were moving so fast and at such odd angles none of the shots came anywhere close, and if they had it wouldn't have done much. The British had been very busy in the last decade, rushing the apache AH-1B into production with increased hardening against magical attacks. One apache opened up with its chin gun, ripping up the ground between the aurors and the fugitives.

"Lay down your arms," a mechanically enhanced voice called over the roar of the rotors. "If you do not comply, we will open fire."

"What do we do sir?" One of the aurors said, panicking at the sight of muggle machinery in a magical village.

"Apparate!" Scrimgeour shouted. "Retreat, we can't fight them like this!"

The dozen aurors vanished with scattered pops, and the transports set down as the apaches circled.

"Do these things really fly?" a panicky Susan Bones demanded. "They don't look safe!"

"They fly," Neville answered. "Come on. Too late to back out now."

Everyone scrambled aboard, and Sergeant Prewett finally surrendered Mafalda to a medic, who began treating her injuries. Lavender and Parvati were seen to as well, and the helicopters lifted away, heading back to base.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"What do you mean, a dozen muggle machines just kidnapped my niece?" Amelia Bones bellowed.

Scrimgeour flinched, but didn't back down. "They got right through the muggle repelling charms ma'am, and the illusionary wards. Knew right where the station was. The traitors must have told them."

"I want everyone on brooms after those things, now!" Director Bones bellowed. "Everyone! That means you too, Rufius!"

Scrimgeour nodded, his eyes blazing. "Yes ma'am."

Ten minutes later, the helicopters were making good progress back to base when one of the rear Apache pilots saw several dozen dots appear on his magical field detector. It was a clever piece of work, which looked for the electromagnetic disturbances caused by heavy use of magic.

"Bogeys, on our six," he called over the radio.

"Copy that. Hunters 2, 3, 5, 8, break off and discourage our pursuers."

The indicated hellis banked, coming about to face their foes.

"They can see us!" an auror shouted. Only her closest companions could hear her, the wind whipping her words away.

"Impossible," he shouted back. "We've got notice-me-not charms."

"I see them on infrared," Hunter 2's gunner declared. "Request permission to engage."

"Weapons free. You are clear to engage hostiles."

"Copy weapons free. Engaging."

The aurors were not stupid. In addition to notice-me-not charms and light bending charms, they had all conjured very strong shield charms that were proof against many spells and even small caliber bullets. What they were not proof against however, were heat seeking missiles and 30mm cannon rounds. The first salvo the helicopters fired was not directly aimed at the aurors, instead acting as a warning shot. However, the amount of magic in the air was playing havoc with the weapons systems, and one auror was basted by one apache's guns, literally ripping her in two when her shield shattered like glass. Another man was caught in the blast of a hellfire missile with a guidance system gone awry, his shields cracking and his robes catching on fire. He died when he crashed into the ground of a broken neck.

Panic broke out in the ranks of the aurors. They were not professional soldiers, instead akin more to a special police force. Most of them instantly disappeared at seeing the muggles awe inspiring firepower. The rest fled after the helicopters opened fire again, this time with far deadlier intent, killing two aurors with more cannon fire. Even Director Bones had to activate an emergency portkey when the shockwave of an exploding missile knocked her clean off of her broom. All in all, the aurors suffered four dead and a dozen major injuries, with two dozen more minor ones. It was the worst defeat the Ministry forces had ever suffered, even more devastating than the darkest day of the last war.

No casualties were suffered on the part of the RAF, though one helicopter suffered mechanical difficulties due to magical interference, and had to make a forced landing in a field. It was a write off, but the crew escaped with only minor injuries. As first battles go, wars had been opened with far bloodier affairs. None, however, would have more far reaching consequences for all of humanity.


	53. Chapter 52

**Chapter 52: The Curtain Tears**

Almost at the same time as the raid on Hogsmeade station, several men in uniform walked into the main BBC Broadcasting House. They showed ID, and were lead into the main operations center.

"Cut all the tapes," an officer in a general's uniform ordered. "End all broadcasts. National and international. Play this." He handed over a simple cassette, marked "SITUATION MERLIN'S TEARS." Behind him, an orderly wheeled an entire trolley of more tapes, which he started unloading.

"What, on all the stations?" one of the operators demanded.

A BBC executive nodded. "On all the stations, every channel. It's going out over radio too."

The tape went in and began to play, and the world was forever changed.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

The Dursley's were enjoying a late dinner, when the television program they had been watching cut out, replaced by an emergency broadcast system.

DO NOT ADJUST YOUR SET. THIS IS A BROADCAST FROM THE HOMELAND DEFENSE OFFICE AND THE OFFICE FOR MAGICAL AFFAIRS.

Warning sirens blared, and in the distance, an air raid siren, not used in ages, wailed to life.

"Dad, what's going on?" Dudley Dursley demanded, wiping his gravy coated hands on his shirt. While the had originally planned to send Dudley to Smeltings, after the fines the Dursleys had been forced to pay due to their treatment of their much maligned nephew, they could no longer afford it.

Vernon Dursley paled, shaking his head. "I don't know Dudders. Let's go over and watch."

The family crowded around the TV, which suddenly flickered to show the serious face of the Prime Minister.

"Hello. I am John Major, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom."

The camera panned, revealing Her Majesty sitting next to the Prime Minister in a regal white gown in some sort of formal sitting room.

"With me is Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth Alexandra Mary."

The queen nodded, but she was not smiling. Both leader's faces were grim, and Vernon felt his breath catch. Had there been a nuclear attack?

"Tonight, we wish to address the subjects of the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth. All subjects of the Crown," the Queen took a breath, then continued, "both magical, and mundane."

The Dursleys gasped, and Vernon felt like throwing up. The queen, talking about that magical nonsense? They'd been shot of that for going on 11 years now.

"For some time now, there have been two Britons living in two societies. The everyday, mundane society that most of Our subjects are a part of, and a secret, hidden society. The Magical Society. This society has operated largely autonomously since the creation of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy in 1689. However, in the 1970s and 1980s, this society was torn apart by a war that spilled over into mundane society, resulting in great loss of life in both societies."

Vernon and Petunia shared a wide eyed glance, their hearts beating fast. It was that maniac that had killed Petunia's sister and his flunkies again.

"Today, once again, that society finds itself rocked by war," John Major continued. "I received notice of the return of the so-called Lord Voldemort, the terrorist responsible for the death of so many British citizens, magical and mundane, from the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge on December 30th, 1991. At the time, Minister Fudge assured me that Lord Voldemort and his followers would be contained and defeated. If this message is being broadcast, the Ministry for Magic has failed in this endeavor."

The Queen spoke once more. "We now invite all our subjects, especially those of the magical society, to join with us to defeat this terrorist threat and his followers, who follow the misguided belief that those of long magical ancestry are a superior race, and should have dominion over all others. This smacks of the old cruelty of fascism and nazism, and is something that We and Our Government will not tolerate upon British soil. In the next few hours and days, the armed forces of this nation will be waging a battle against any who would seek to harm the citizens of this great nation, be they magical or mundane. All of our magical citizens who seek aid, shelter, or to join in the war effort should contact their local constabulary or report to the nearest government office. Shelters and aid stations will be set up to assist any who come under attack in this harrowing time."

"To provide more information for our magical citizens, we now turn to Mr. Arthur Weasley, former Ministry of Magic official," John Major said.

The camera panned again, revealing a balding, ordinary looking man with horned rimmed glasses, blinking at the camera. "Hello. I'm Arthur Weasley, head of the Weasley family, and Hogwarts alumni. To all of my wizarding brethren, do not be alarmed. The muggles are here to help you. Lord Voldemort is back, and our very way of life is threatened. I do not think we can ever return to it. I have met with the Prime Minister and Her Majesty, and know that they have our very best interest at heart. Please, do not panic that the Statue has been breached."

"Policemen are very similar to aurors, and will help you. They have been alerted to expect odd sorts, such as those from the magical world, coming in looking for help. They will give it to you, and provide you transport to safe houses if you are threatened by Death Eaters or by ministry officials questioning your blood status. My whole family is currently being cared for by muggle soldiers, and I have every confidence they are in good hands."

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley," the Prime Minister said as the camera turned back to him. "To the International Community, Britain urges a spirit of cooperation and mutual aide with your own magical citizens. To any magical citizens who fear oppression or persecution, The United Kingdom freely welcomes you one and all to our shores, as do the other nations of the Commonwealth, whom I have met with and give me every assurance that equal rights will be given to all citizens, regardless of their magical or mundane heritage. Keep calm, and carry on. A new day has dawned in Britain."

The transmission cut out. But instead of the usual late night drama, a strange woman in a hat adorned with a vulture appeared. "Hello. I am Augusta Longbottom, and I am here to demonstrate some practical applications of magic, which can-"

Vernon changed the channel.

"-used for a great many things, including healing," an indian looking fellow in a doctor's lab coat was saying. "We've already started to quietly introduce magical therapies into our treatments with the help of our magical recruits. One such treatment is very promising in addressing Type 1 and 2 diabetes by reactivating the-"

Click!

A dumpy woman with red hair appeared, holding up a squirming little man. "Just one of the many different magical creatures. This, for example, is a common garden gnome."

"Piss off!" the little man squeaked.

The woman flushed. "They are, um, a bit foul mouthed though. Perhaps we should move on to pixies! Here I have-"

"-back in 1991, Lord Voldemort killed my parents."

"Stop!" Petunia said, snatching away the remote. The family stared in horrified fascination at the young man in an army uniform with an odd unit patch. He had a lightning shaped scar on his forehead, and was sitting in front of a camera, talking.

"For a short time I stayed with my mothers relatives, but they were not terribly fond of me," Harry continued.

"Bloody understatement of the century," Vernon growled.

"I was adopted by my parents in 1983. They've been very good to me." The camera zoomed out a bit, showing a smiling man and woman sitting on the couch with Harry.

"What was it like, raising a magical child?" an off screen voice asked.

The woman chuckled, smiling at the camera. "Mostly like raising any little boy who got into a lot of trouble," she rubbed Harry's short hair, and he jerked away, laughing.

"Stop it mum!"

"There were a few incidents," the man said, his voice deep and reassuring. His own uniform had a major's insignia on it. "One day Harry and his sister were attacked by a stray dog. Somehow, it shrunk before it got to them until it was the size of a puppy. And of course there was his ability to speak to snakes. Bit unnerving, hearing him hiss like that."

"Could you speak to a snake now, Harry?" the unseen interviewer asked.

Harry nodded, and a handler brought out medium sized python. Harry made some hissing noises, and the snake uncurled and moved over to Harry, who stroked it. "What would you like me to ask the snake to do?"

"Can it do any tricks?"

More hissing, then the snake winked at the camera, and waved the end of its tale. The interviewer gasped. "Amazing!"

"I can't bear any more," Vernon groaned, and Petunia shut off the television.

"Why don't we listen to the wireless for a bit," Petunia offered, switching on the radio.

"-very fascinating going to Hogwarts. There are real ghosts you know, like Sir Nicholas, the ghost of Gryffindor," an eager girl's voice said. "I was sorted into Gryffindor in 1991 with my friends Harry McAllister, Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom. Sadly, just before the Christmas Holidays we were attacked by-"

Petunia shut the radio off. "Perhaps a board game?"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Mr. President, we have a situation."

Bill Clinton jerked awake, sleeping clinging to his mind like cobwebs. "What, what's happened?"

"You won't believe it until you see it, sir. Here, take this robe. We don't have much time."

The President of the United States stumbled into the briefing room, red eyed and clothed in a bathrobe. "Are we under attack?" he demanded of the security officer on duty.

The officer shrugged. "No, but the limey's have gone utterly bonkers. Put it on."

A television switched on, showing a grinning man in odd leather clothes. "So, mum's showed you some of the smaller critters, but today do I have a treat for you!" there was a roar, and the camera panned back to show a large lizard thing, which was flapping its wings. A gout of flame shot forth, and Clinton realized it was supposed to be a dragon.

"What, you woke me up for a fantasy show?" the President demanded, feeling rather irritated.

"Sir, this is on the main BBC news channel. The British Ambassador is on his way over now."

"Now Norberta here is a hungarian horntail! Nasty breed of dragon this lot. You can see the spike on the tail there, which woah!" the man pointed a stick at the dragon and said some nonsense words, which somehow cowed the beast.

"Well at least it's not bad television," the president muttered, leaning back in his chair and yawning.

A few minutes later, a harried looking man in a grey suit stepped into the room. "Robin! Glad you could join us," Clinton said. "I was just about to put on some popcorn. Just what the hell is your government pulling. Is this your idea of a joke?"

"It's not a joke, sir," Robin Renwick said, sitting down heavily in an offered chair. "I just received notice from the Prime Minister and Her Majesty. Everything the television is showing is quite real."

The President glanced at the screen, where the man was now saddling the obviously fake dragon. "You expect me to believe that thing is real?"

Ambassador Renwick nodded gravely. "I am afraid so, Mr. President."

Clinton was about to retort when there was an explosion in the hall. A secret service agent tackled the president, hiding him under the table as gunfire sounded.

"What is going on?" the President shouted as he cowered in his robe.

Instead of answering, the agent stood and fired off shots from his pistol.

" _Stupefy_!"

The agent slumped over, falling on top of his charge. Clinton froze, shivering in fear. A moment later, rough hands put him up against the wall, and a stick was pointed in his face.

"What are you doing? Who are you?" Clinton demanded as his eyes crossed as he tried to focus on the stick.

The woman behind the stick grimaced. "This is the right no-maj? The president?"

"That's Clinton. Do it."

"I demand-"

" _Imperio_!"

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\\\

For many years, the International Confederation of Wizards had acted as the body that ensured that the International Statute of Secrecy was enforced, ensuring that muggles remained blissfully unaware that not only was magic real, but it was powerful, dangerous, and that the world of magic was far larger and more present than anyone could have dreamed. This was, aside from an avenue to discuss treaties and make political threats and boasts, was the one and only purpose of the ICW.

That wasn't to say that this task didn't keep the body on its toes, far from it. As the number of muggles increased and their technology improved it became harder and harder to keep the secret of magic. As such, witches and wizards stayed on duty at all times, monitoring the muggle television and radio networks across the globe. When the first BBC radio signals were intercepted, the initial reaction was panic, but the belief was that it could be controlled.

Until the ICW attempted to stop the broadcasts, that is. Witches and wizards apparated to the BBC headquarters and other media outlets, only to find themselves near powerless in the BBC buildings (it was quickly realized the muggles had some sort of anti-magical defenses up) and well armed muggle security on hand to drive off any overt attempts.

The United States BBC offices quickly came under assault by ICW and MACUSA aurors and hit wizards, and a brief, epic battle raged throughout the building. In the end, the magicals did manage to halt the broadcasts, but only after 38 minutes of footage had played.

On the European continent, no such luck was had, as the various magical ministries were not nearly as paranoid as the Americans and were slow to react. By the time they did, it was far too late, and muggle heads of state were making broad proclamations of support of the British government, especially those in NATO. The same held true in the Commonwealth of nations, and in the case of the Canadian BBC station several wizards were killed when they attempted to invade the national and BBC stations.

In South America, several governments outright refused to aide the ICW.

"We were not asked our opinions when the Statute was formed," the head Warlock of Chichen Itzan stated. "We were a conquered people, and forced to do as you European and Asian wizards demand. Now, we see no reason to prop up your failing statue. This is a moment of opportunity for us."

As for Asia, several nations quietly pulled out of the ICW, stating that they had their own plans for enforcing their own versions of the Statue. Within 20 hours, it was obvious that any further efforts to enforce the Statute of Secrecy were pointless.

It was at that point that any semblance of international cooperation in the wizarding world began to break down.

/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

A dozen men and women sat around a low table, sipping from cups of tea. Half the of them dressed in western style suits of immaculate quality, most of them imports from italy. Across the table sat an array of brightly colored robes of silk in a style that would have been not out of place during the Ming Dynasty. Still, the silence in the room was companionable: these men and women had long worked together. Some of those dressed in robes could recall a time when they served an Emperor, not the People's Republic, but things were much the same for them.

With the tea ceremony complete, the eldest of those dressed in robes, a white haired matron with deep lines in her face, set down her cup and looked around the table. "So, the English have broken the Statue. This changes things."

There were nodes from everyone. "What shall we do? Shall we denounce their news as lies?" one of the men in a suit asked.

"No," the ancient matron said, shaking her head. "No, that would be fruitless. We could hide the truth for a time, yes, but things were already changing. A time is soon coming when even the meanest peasant will have their own video camera and a television to watch the news upon. We have been planning for this for some time now."

"But this changes everything," one of the men in robes protested. "If the people know that magic is real, it will be expected to serve the People and the Party as all others do."

"China has changed much of late," a man in suit declared. He was old enough to remember the Emperor as well, though he had been young, and he had been a companion of Mao. "It can change a little more."

"For now, we should say nothing. We will begin to move into place. Slowly, we will unveil the truth to people. Let them see our arts serving them as we venture from our enclaves," the old matron declared. "Magic will serve the People, and the Party."

The talks lasted for much longer, far into the night and the next day, but the basic framework had been set. It was time for China's next Great Leap Forward.

\/\\\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Kamal shut off the wireless and looked at his older sister. "What madness is this? Why do the British violate the Statute?"

Yaya shrugged, her dark forehead drenched in sweat. Not from the heat, but from fear. "I do not know. But if they know about us, know that we are real, what will they do?"

"They will come for me again," Kamal whispered, rocking himself back and forth.

"Perhaps Headmaster Akingbade will know what to do," Yaya said, taking up her staff. "Come, let us apparate back to school. We cannot stay here. If the other villagers suspect us, they will tell the government, and those butchers and madmen will crucify us."

Kamal took his sister's hand, and together they apparated. Fortunately for them, Uagadou was located in the Tondou Massif, on the border between Sudan and the Central African Republic, well within apparition range. They appeared on a large crag just outside the school and stepped off the platform onto a crowded path.

"Why are so many people here?" Kamal said, looking around with wide eyes. He clutched Yaya's hands. He would not begin attending school for two more years when he turned ten. Yaya herself had graduated two years before, only six months after the death of their parents at the hands of a muggle mob who had seen her father perform some minor magic. Kamal had only escaped by running and hiding for a week; thankfully their uncle had found him before the villagers had.

"For the same reason you are, young man," an elderly man said, leading a large family up the path. "To seek the wisdom of Headmaster Akingbade. We have all heard the news; the English muggles have gone mad, and revealed the secret of magic."

Yaya nodded. "Yes, I just didn't know what to do. My brother and I, we live alone. If any muggles came for us, we could not defend ourselves."

The old man grunted. "It is much the same for all of us. We live in a small magical community, but there are other villages around, men with guns. I am Akat Oktot. These are my children and grandchildren. Stick with us, you two. We are all wizards here."

It was a long climb up the carved stone steps to the school, one that Yaya remembered fondly. Still, she had never seen so many people, even when the students were making their yearly assent at the start of the school. There were a few children of the right age, but there were also many families with very young children, and men and women older even than Akat, whose own hair was peppered with grey and white.

At last, they reached the top, where students were passing out water, food, and blankets. The Headmaster stood on a raised dais, looking out upon his people, his face lit by the light of the braisers that had been lit to give light. Yaya and Kamal sat with Akat's family, eating the offered bread and goat cheese and wondering what would happen. She shivered in the cold, and cast a warming charm over herself and Kamal, looking up at the stars and wondering if they had foretold this.

Finally, as the sun rose, the Headmaster raised his hands for quiet, and the people fell silent, save for the whimpering cries of a few infants.

"My brothers and sisters, our world has changed. No longer is our existence a secret. No longer can we hide in our scattered villages and countries. Once again, the Europeans have destroyed the world, and seek to remake it in their own image. Many of us are old enough to remember what it was like, when they came with their guns and fire, conquering our muggle neighbors. But we did not act: the Statute forbade it. This time, however, it is against the Statute itself that they act!"

"We sat and did nothing as the riches of Africa were taken from her many peoples. Our mineral wealth, our oil and gold. Our animals, magical and mundane, killed as trophies or taken as amusements for foreigners. And our people, dead from war, enslaved, or shipped away, never to be seen again. We told ourselves that it did not matter, for we were wizards, and they were not. But it did matter. With our brothers and sisters without magic thrown into chaos, we too were affected. Many of our friends and family died in the storms that have engulfed our land."

"So upon this day, I say that we will act! Too many of our countries are in chaos. Too many of our lands are under the heel of warlords and bandits. Too many of us live in fear every day that we will be discovered for what we are and killed or mutilated. No more. Uagadou remembers when Africa was ruled by wise Africans, kings like Mansa Musa who looked to his court wizards for guidance and headed their words. So we, wizardkind, shall unite. We will bring peace to our lands. We will stop the violence and oppression. We will guide the muggles back to the time when Africa was great, when her wealth and glory was the envy of the world! It starts here, in Uagadou. First we will go and rescue any of our fellow wizards and witches who may be in danger from this newest European folly. Then, once we are together, once we are strong, we will begin to bring order and peace to Africa once more. We shall throw out the petty tyrants, overturn the systems of oppression created by foreign puppets, and led our peoples into a new golden age!"

Yaya cheered along with everyone else as the golden rays of the sun bathed the courtyard in the light of a new dawn. In the coming days, she would take up staff and wand, becoming a soldier in the new order. She would mete out justice to those who burned and looted, and give aid to those oppressed by famine and disease. The African Renewal had begun.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\\\/\/\\\/\/\/\/

Pablo Escobar and a handful of other drug lords kneeled in puddles of their own urine outside Congress of Columbia. Behind the hooded men stood robed figures, bearing wands. Their leader was a big man, his body muscular beneath his brown robes. His dark beard was oiled and trimmed neatly, and upon his neck hung a cross of wood with golden trim. He fingered the crucifix, whispering a prayer to the holy virgin.

From the building, the President slowly walked forward, surrounded by bodyguards bearing guns. "Who are you?" he called.

Kissing the cross one final time, Felix Morena smiled up at the president, spreading his arms wide. "We bring you a gift, Senior Gavira. Myself and my friends, we have known who these scum are for some time. For ages, we have wished to take action. But alas, we are young, at least by the standards of wizards and witches. Our elders did not listen. They told us it was folly to aide our fellow man, to get rid of these human stains that ruin the lives of so many of our people. But today, all that is changed. So, in a gesture of friendship, we bring you your enemies, the enemies of the people of Columbia."

President Gavira nodded to one of his bodyguards, who hurried forward and jerked the canvas bag roughly off of Escobar's head. He swore softly under his breath, then turned and nodded. "It's Escobar."

"A fine gift," President Gaviria said, coming forward to study his enemy. Escobar raged silently, his lips forming words, but no sound coming out.

Felix smiled. "My apologies, he would not shut up, so we have stilled his tongue. I can remove the silencing charm if you wish."

"No need. It suits him." President Gaviria studied Felix for a long moment. "So, young man, you are a wizard? Some would say that makes you an unholy abomination, worse even than this man."

Felix picked up his cross and kissed it. "By the name of the Holy Virgin Santa Maria and by the Blood of Jesus Christo, our Lord and Savior, I swear that we are no abominations. It was the Old Testament that said to not suffer a witch to live, no? We are under the new testament, under the Cross, not under the Law."

Gaviria threw back his head and laughed. "You sound like a priest! Or better, a bishop! Should I have Bishop Mario come and examine you to see if you are a demon, or a man?"

"I would welcome Bishop Bravo or any other man of the faith to come. I and my followers have all been baptised into the Faith. We are here to offer our services to our fellow man. Maria here, she is an expert healer. Rodrigo is a potions master. And Analicia is a fine auror like myself: she took down Escobar. We could help you and our people in many ways."

"And I would be a fool to turn you away. Especially since you have so kindly given me those who would destroy Columbia." Gavira put his arm around Felix's shoulders. "Come, my young friend. Together, let us forge a new way forward for our people."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\\\/\/\/\

The football stadium in Kabul was full of dust as the crowd shouted and screamed in the sunlight. Masked men in dirty robes rode into the stadium in old cars and trucks, the prisoners with bags over their heads and their hands tied behind their backs. Men with guns, either captured from the Soviets when they had tried to invade a decade ago or given by the Americans to repel the Communists from Afghanistan, pushed the crowd back. A cleric with a long wild beard stood up on an overturned crate and held a loudspeaker to his lips as the prisoners were dragged forward.

"God is great!" he shouted, and as one the crowd shouted back, "God is great!"

"My brothers, today we put to death these vile sorcerers as ordered by the Prophet so long ago! Is not written, 'And I also seek refuge in God from the evil of those who practice witchcraft?' Though it was first the infidels in England who discovered the truth, we now know it as well!"

The prisoners were made to kneel in the center of the football stadium, before a trench that had been hastily dug in the hard cracked earth by a bulldozer that was parked off to the side. Some were young, only children. Some were old, with withered limbs. There were both men and women, some who were rich, others who were poor. A few were even actual witches and wizards, but most were merely victims of old grudges or superstitions.

"Today we do the will of God and remove these wicked callers of devils from our midst. God is Great!"

The crowd cheered, shaking their fists in the air as they howled for the blood of those before them. The masked men readied their weapons, when a series of loud cracks sounded as men and woman appeared around the stadium with drawn wands. There were shouts of alarm as the newcomers unleashed a barrage of spells upon the armed men. In response, the staccato sounds of automatic weapons fire and the sharp cracks of single action weapons filled their air, as did the screams. Men, women and children were struck down. Some by spells, some by bullets, others trampled as the crowd panicked. The dusty air took on a metallic tang as it was damped down by the spilling of blood.

Some of those with wands raced forward, dragging away a few of the prisoners and vanishing with them. They left behind a few of their compatriots, who had either been riddled with bullets or taken down by the sheer press of humanity that had come against them. Many more of those with guns or civilians were left lying in pools of blood and bile where spells or gunfire had cut them down as well.

If this scene had been a single isolated one, perhaps it would have been remembered as a great tragedy.

It was not. Across the world, especially in underdeveloped nations, similar scenes played out. In some places, the muggles triumphed through numbers and the shock of just how effective their weapons were against inexperienced witches and wizards. In other places, the muggles were slaughtered or subdued as more powerful witches and wizards brought their might to bear.

The Long Peace, the one that had lasted since last the Great Powers had finally brought World War II to an end on the deck of the USS Missouri in 1945 was at an end.

The War of Magical Liberation had begun.


	54. Chapter 53

**Chapter 53: The End of the Beginning**

No sooner than the copters landed at RAF Lossiemouth than Harry and his friends found themselves swarmed with orderlies and officers.

"Harry, Harry what's going on?" a panicky Susan demanded. Her nerves were worn to a frayed edge after the long helicopter ride.

Tonks drew her wand, which she had insisted on retaining despite the efforts of the helicopter crew, and shouted. "Back off! No one touches my sprogs until I know what your on about!"

Silence fell, and Tonks flushed when she realized that several of the muggles had guns pointed at her now.

"Stand down!" Prewett barked, coming between Tonks and the other soldiers. "She's on our side. I said stand down!"

"Yes sergeant." The guns were lowered, but not put away. Tonks lowered her wand, wondering if she had just made the worst mistake of her life.

"Sergeant," a Captain said, coming forward and saluting. "Please escort our guests to Hangar 3. We're holding a bit of an impromptu press conference. We want to reassure the children's families that they are unharmed, and came here voluntarily."

"Yes sir. Come on you lot, this way."

Prewett led the way, once more carrying his daughter. For her part, Mafalda looked rather pleased with the whole situation. The fact that her father had killed a woman in front of her had not quite registered yet. In fact, it never really would. For the rest of her life, Mafalda considered her father's killing of Umbridge to not only be entirely justified, but saw it as him saving her from a horrific fate. While she did occasionally have nightmares, they would all be that he never came to save her, and that instead she wrote until Umbridge had drained every drop of her blood.

Several tables with glasses of water and sandwiches had been set up in front of a section of cameras, where several baffled looking reporters were sitting. The students and Tonks were directed to seat themselves, and cameras started flashing as pictures were taken and video began to be captured.

"Coming to you life from RAF Lossiemouth, this is BBC news reporting on the developing magical situation. We turn now to the students rescued from...Hogwarts? Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." The report looked as though he could not quite believe what was being said, and as though this was all a bad joke in poor taste. Turning around, he smiled faintly at the students. "So, you're ah, witches and wizards are you?"

Luna spoke up first. "Yes, we are. Harry and Sergeant Prewett rescued us from the horrible conspiracy to drain the blood of Hogwarts students and-"

"Not now Luna," Hermione whispered.

Luna stopped and smiled at the camera.

The reporter looked even more skeptical. This just looked like a bunch of schoolkids in funny black robes. "So, er, you can do magic."

"Obviously," Percy muttered. "Why would we be going to Hogwarts if we couldn't?"

"So you maintain this school is real, that this hidden magical society is real?" another reporter demanded.

"Do you have Elvis?" an old woman who worked for the Sun asked. "Or possibly John Lennon?"

Blaise laughed. "Are you serious? You find out magic is real, and you want to know if we've been kidnapping muggle musicians?"

"I think it's a very good question," Luna said seriously. "Perhaps the Ministry has been kidnapping musicians and stealing their songs, since they are rather good magic themselves." Fortunately, someone had cut off Luna's microphone, and only Lavender and Hermione heard her statement past the part about it being a good question.

"You lot want to see some magic?" Fred said suddenly, drawing his wand and standing.

The reporters stared at him, then one of them said, "Well yes, frankly I don't quite know if this is all real."

"Right. George, if you would please?"

George stood and picked up a glass of water. "Behold! An ordinary glass of water!"

"For the love of God you two, don't do anything blasphemous and turn it into wine," Justin groaned, covering his head with his hands.

Fred laughed and waved his wand. "What, cribbing notes from someone else? Not our style, thanks." The glass of water turned into a butterfly, and began to fly around the room, prompting several gasps.

"That's actually not so bad," Hermione said, smiling at the beautiful insect.

Percy shook his head. "Just wait."

Before anyone could ask for what, the butterfly shattered into a thousand pieces, sparks of light filling the room. "Magic is real, you wankers," was spelled out in multicolored light.

"Boys," Prewett growled.

The twins gulped and waved their wands.

"Magic is real kiddos!" replaced the previous message. After a moment, the lights faded.

"It's a trick!' someone said.

Hannah rolled her eyes and stood up. "Right." She climbed up on top of the table and spread her hands. "Do you all agree that I am a girl?"

"Well, you look like a girl. What, you secretly a boy or something?" a reporter called.

Hannah growled and squinted. "Who said that?"

No one answered. Hannah shrugged. "Well do you at least agree I'm human?"

There were mutters of agreement.

Hannah smiled. "You sure about that?" Without a sound or any lights, Hannah turned into a badger. It was very quick, but the whole transformation process was recorded on camera for all posterity.

"Oi," Fred said, glaring at Hannah.

"That's cheating," agreed George.

"Don't make an ass of yourself," Ginny chided. And turned into a horse.

"It's all got to be some sort of trick," one of the reporters stammered, backing away.

A magpie alighted on the man's shoulder. "Don't believe in magic, do you?"

He glared at the bird. "Well a talking bird isn't magic, you can train a magpie to say just about anything!" When he suddenly found a girl sitting on his shoulder instead of a bird, the man fell over onto the concrete hangar floor.

"But what about a bird that's also a girl?" Lavender giggled.

All the reporters started asking questions at once, demanding to know any number of things.

"Questions later," Prewett ordered, and the reports grumbled, but sat back down. "Pan the camera's around, show them everyone."

Lavender flew back to her spot, waving along with everyone else.

"As you can see," Sergeant Prewett said, "All twelve children who left Hogwarts are in good health, as Professor Tonks can testify."

Tonks jerked, her mind being drawn back to the present. "Oh, um, yes, we're all here, were all fine, been treated very kindly."

"Hello mum and dad," Justin said as he waved at the camera. "Hope to be home soon, now you can finally talk about me at your dinner parties again!"

The names and homes of every student were given, then the reporters were shown out. As soon as they were gone, the students were herded to a bus, around which were parked several large vans.

"We're relocating you all to a safe house," Sergeant Prewett explained. "I'll be coming with you. Some of your parents, that is, the ones in on this whole thing, may be able to join you there."

"But, why? The secret's out, the Ministry can't fight back now," Hannah protested as they were loaded onto the bus.

Susan scowled. "I don't know. Auntie Amelia is pretty stubborn, and I don't think anyone is going to let this whole thing blow over. I think the war has just begun."

"What, you mean like with fighting and stuff?" Lavender asked as she sat down.

Harry nodded. "The aurors tried to come after us. The other helis that broke off, they shot at them. No one was hurt, we think, but it changes things."

Susan paled. "Oh Merlin. Auntie Amelia…"

"You really think there will be killing, Harry?" Padma asked softly.

It was Neville who answered. "There was already going to be killing. Darth Stupidus is back, or did you forget? You saw what the Chief Warlock and the Wizengamot were doing. They were passing legislation cutting us off from the muggle world, just like the Americans. If we didn't go along with that, they would have put us in Azkaban or worse."

"It just seems so wrong," Parvati whispered. "I just wanted to help, to stop the fighting."

"This is the best way," Harry assured them all. "We're not out to kill anyone or even fight. We just want the wizarding world to accept that everyone has equal rights, and being a wizard or witch doesn't make you better than anyone else. If some people have a problem with that and want to fight us, well, we won't let them bully anyone."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

The Wizengamot was in utter panic. People were shouting, screaming, crying and wailing, most of it nonsense, and none of it helpful. Muggles had fired on aurors. Several aurors had been killed. They had clearly been able to pierce the anti-muggle charms and disillusionment charms with a high degree of accuracy. Even now, on the muggle wireless and papers, detailed reports on the magical world were going out. Already, muggles were in the streets, some rioting, others simply curious. Every single magical nation on earth had pulled its diplomatic corps out of Britain. In the case of the Americans, they had even declared war.

Barty Crouch Junior looked out at the panic and smiled. This hadn't quite been what his master had planned, but it would work. He raised his wand.

" _Morsmoredre_!" The Dark Mark shone to life over the chamber, the snake flicking its tongue as the skull's eyes glowed with green fire. Silence was instant and absolute. Barty smiled out at the crowd, his eyes glittering with madness. "Do I now have your attention?"

"Barty, what are you doing?" Dumbledore demanded, rising from the visitor's booth. "His symbol? Here? From you?"

"Silence, you old fool!" Crouch snarled. "You had the muggles plans right under your hooked nose and did not see it! You were defeated by squibs and children! Now sit down and do not speak until you are called upon!"

It was a testament to just how baffled by the whole situation Dumbledore was that he did indeed sit and be silent.

Crouch turned back to the Wizengamot. "My friends, we are now in the darkest hour of Wizardkind. The time for divisions amongst ourselves has passed. Fudge has been sacked, on my authority. Now is not the time for weak willed fools and quibblers. Now is the time for action, for a leader who has proven himself capable and ruthless in the face of opposition, who holds the traditions and holiness of our blood above all else. I speak to you of one who was once considered the enemy of this Chamber, but is now it's salvation. Behold, the true Heir of Slytherin and the Dark Lord, Voldemort!"

Into the chamber, flanked by four masked Death Eaters strode a young man with a youthful, handsome face. Upon his brow was a crown of iron wrought in the shape of skulls that had eyes that glittered with green fire. To his side and slightly behind him came a girl of fourteen, hugely pregnant in an emerald green dress, crowned with a silver tiara formed in the shape of a snake biting its own tail.

The Wizengamot gasped and whispered, but they did not protest. The aurors tightened their grips on their wands, but they did not speak or attempt to block the path of the Dark Lord. Even Amelia Bones, still recovering from her crash landing after portkeying, did not speak. Her eyes only narrowed dangerously. It was only Dumbledore who stood, wand drawn, but he made no move to oppose the Dark Lord.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, wizards and witches, I come before you now in your hour of need," Voldemort said, standing upon the dais that Crouch had vacated for him. "Our world's foundations have shattered. The muggles know. The knew who were are, where we live, and what we are capable of. They will seek to grind us into the dust, to bind us as slaves, and to slay those who will not bend the knee to them. This, I will not allow."

"In the past, some opposed my methods and beliefs. I was foolish in some regards. I see now that a wizard is a wizard and a witch is a witch, no matter their blood status. We must all stand together now, or die alone. The muggles will exterminate us if we but give them the chance. This, we cannot do. We must rise up and subjugate them, asserting our rightful place as the masters of this world and all its species, be they magical or muggle."

"I now extend the hand of friendship to the one who once opposed me most fiercely. Albus, old friend, will you not join me? We two are the most powerful wizards in all the world. Together, we can throw back these barbarians, these muggle brutes, and establish a permanent dominion ruled by magic, with what muggles who will accept our rightful rule as our servants." Voldemort extended a hand to the old Headmaster, his mouth in a wide grin. His eyes, however, were cold and dead.

Dumbledore stood, swaying slightly. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I will join you."

Voldemort's smile became predatory, his hands clenching as he grasped victory.

"I will join you, but not to enslave the muggles," Dumbledore continued. "I will join you to help hide ourselves away, I will join you to make the muggles forget, I will join you to keep our people safe. But I will not commit genocide, not for either side. The muggles have just as much right to life as we do. I do not believe we can ever merge our worlds, we are too different. But to attempt to use the gifts we have been given to become tyrants and despots is a crime against magic itself, and I will have no part of it."

Dumbledore gazed around the room, his eyes haunted. "I return now to Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. I will there erect wards and barriers to keep Hogwarts and those who live there safe from muggles for all time. If needs must, I shall enact the Edict of Merlin."

There were mutters around the chamber. Few knew what that was, and those that did had no faith the old man could pull it off.

Voldemort, however, both knew what the Edict of Merlin was, and believed the Dumbledore could pull it off. "You would run when there are so many who do not have the option? I thought you an old man, but I did not believe you a coward and a fool." Voldemort swept his gaze around the Chamber. "The Edict of Merlin would remove Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, and all those within it from time and space. They would exist forever alone, in limbo, apart from all others. It is a slow death by strangulation and isolation instead of a quick one under the swords of the muggles if we surrender. Is that what you wish? To go with this old fool and bury yourselfs in a shallow grave? Or will you join with me and fight? Fight for the right and might of magic!"

There were roars of approval, even from those who would have traditionally been allies of Dumbledore. When the old man turned and left, few went with him.

The rest pledged themselves to the Dark Lord.


	55. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

The safe house was in a remote corner of Scotland on a rocky hill with excellent sightlines. Armed guards were posted in both highly visible and well hidden locations. However, what they guarded was perhaps more dangerous even than the men armed with automatic weapons, or even the jets that circled high overhead, the distant roar of their engines a constant presence. Inside was the hope of mundane Britain: young witches and wizards. Pureblood or muggleborn, they represented a bright future, one in which both the mundane and the magical could work together and coexist. For the moment, however, that was a future too far distant to ponder for long.

Everyone was still settling in when Harry was taken to a private conference room in one of the bunkers built beneath the house. It was brightly lit with fluorescent bulbs, with a long wooden table in the center. At the head of the table sat a woman Harry recognized from their previous meetings, and from news she had been on for many years.

"Director Thatcher," Harry said, saluting crisply.

The Iron Lady looked up from her reports, a weary smile creasing the frown lines on her forehead. "Ensign McAllister. Please, have a seat."

Harry took the indicated chair, sitting with his legs dangling slightly. He'd not quite yet hit his growth spurt, and was still rather short. Still, he looked the model of military efficiency despite his height and still boyish appearance. His glasses were no-nonsense black steel frames, his uniform was crisp and fit him well, and his wand and gun were in holsters at his side.

"I've come to congratulate you, young man. You have gone above and beyond our wildest hopes and dreams, even if things have come to a head rather earlier than our plan initially anticipated."

"It was the least I could do, ma'am," Harry said, keeping his features schooled into a neutral expression. "It was my duty."

"If perhaps you were an adult, I would agree with you. However, despite everything you have been through and done, you are still a child, Ensign. However, you managed to recruit and bring to us a full twenty witches and wizards, though Professor Snape is still currently at Hogwarts. This is far beyond what could ever have been considered your duty. You showed leadership, charisma, skill, and daring."

"They're my friends," Harry said honestly. "I'd do anything for them, and they for me. We weren't going to abandon each other, not for anything. We're ready to fight."

Thatcher smiled again and shook her head. "No, Harry, you're not. Oh, I don't dispute your skill, or even your resolve. But what is coming is going to be a war. War is not a place for children. We shall strive to keep you and your friends out of the coming violence. As adults, that is our duty."

"But my father, I promised. I promised to finish what he started," Harry protested. "So did Becky."

"And you will, I fear, have plenty to do when you come of age. Indeed, you will have a great deal to do now. Do not think you will be idle. You'll help train our soldiers to counter magic, help prepare potions and enchant weapons and armor for our troops. There is a great deal you can do, Ensign, but fighting is not one of those things. Your father did not give his life so that you could sacrifice yours: He did it so that you could live. And that, Ensign, is what I am ordering you to do."

Harry deflated slightly, but nodded. "Yes ma'am. We'll do whatever is needed. If you need us to make more recordings or broadcasts, like we did for Merlin's Tears, we'll do that too. Whatever we can do to help." Harry hesitated, then asked, "Do you really think it will be war, ma'am?"

Thatcher sighed and nodded. "Professor Snape was at a full meeting of the Wizengamot. Professor Dumbledore and a number of people, including young Susan's Aunt Amelia Bones, are enacting the Edict of Merlin. They are going to place Hogwarts and Hogsmeade under some sort of spell that will permanently seal them off from the outside world. We're going to have to mount a rescue mission to retrieve the muggleborns who wish to leave, or any other students and staff who do not want to be sealed away."

"Well, I mean, that's a shame and all, but surely we don't have to fight them, do we?" Harry asked.

"No, no, we won't fight them. That's their choice, to seal themselves away. It's' a waste of resources and talent and the cowards way out, but their choice. No, it's the fact that most of the magical population of Britain has pledged themselves to the newly resurrected Darth Stupidus. And he has vowed to fight."

Harry swallowed. "But he can't win, can he? I mean, they have more magic, yes, but we've got a lot more people, and trained fighters. We'll win, won't we?"

Thatcher smiled, remembering that Harry was, in fact, just a child after all. "Of course we will. We're in the right."

Harry left, feeling much better. When the door closed, Thatcher turned to one of her armed guards. "Bring me Auror Tonks. We've a war to fight, and God help me, I don't know if it's one we can win."

 **The End**

 _This is the end of Harry Potter and the Iron Lady, and the end of Harry's role as our primary protagonist, at least for the next five years. The sequel to this story,_ _ **Nymphadora Tonks, The Last Auror,**_ _will be posted after a long period of editing and revising. I've already got quite a bit of it done, but I want it to be the best story possible, and as such am going to delay publishing it for a bit._

 _Fair warning however, the next installment of this story is going to be very different. For one thing, its primarily going to feature adults, and as such many of its themes and tones are going to be more adult. It will be also be a war story, and contain descriptions of the very real horrors of war. As such, the story will be rated M._

 _I also want to extend my thanks to my beta readers, Mary Hellen and random commenters. They've worked very hard with me to make this story as excellent as possible and I couldn't have done it without them. I also want to extend a special thanks to the /r/HPfanficiton community and the encouragement and inspiration they have provided to me. And of course, to all my reviewers. Know that as someone who really likes seeing numbers go up, I treasure each and every review I get. Even the death threats. Finally, to all my readers. Thank you, and I hope you enjoyed this story and my future tales._

 _Disclaimer:_

 _Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling. All depictions of real people, places, and things, are entirely fictitious. There was no Hogwarts, there is no magic. Pay no heed to the man behind the curtain._


	56. Sequel Published!

Darkness was all the man saw. He'd been taken from his home in the middle of the night with no warning. His mouth was gagged and his hands tied and a sack was over his head. He could do nothing. Suddenly strong arms grabbed him, hauling him down the hall. He tried to cry out in pain as the wrenched at his shoulders, but he could only sob silently.

At last, he was placed roughly in a chair. The hood was removed, and the man blinked into the glare of a bright light. The gag was taken from his mouth and he gasped for air. He began to sweat as the heat from the lamp roasted him, and from sheer terror.

"Gregor Milakovich. Born September 7th, 1941 in a small village called Retterburg. Parents, Milak Borisovich and Tanya Karkarov."

"Who are you?" Gregor demanded, blinking in the bright light.

"Who I am is unimportant to our discussion," the voice said. "What you are is of far more interest."

Gregor licked his lips. "I am a shopkeeper. I work here, in Moscow. I sell movies and electronics." What was this about? Sure, some, or really most, of his stock was bootleg or counterfeit, but the authorities had never cared about that before.

"Ah, yes, a shopkeeper. But what of your parents, Gregor? What are they?"

Gregor's blood ran cold. His parents. He had not seen his father in years, and did his best not to think of him. As for his mother, well, he could say nothing. "I do not know. I left home at 14. My father and I did not get along."

That was something of an understatement.

"But why did you not get along, Gregor? Was it because you are a, what is the word? Squib?"

Gregor gasped in shock. How did these men know? Who were they?

"Who are you?" Gregor demanded again. "What is this about?"

"Gregor, we know you see your mother and sister from time to time. We have pictures. You even visit them in their home, now that your father seems to be dead. Is he dead, Gregor?"

"I...my father is not dead," Gregor admitted. "He left my mother for another woman." A veela, but Gregor was not about to say that. "What do you want with my mother and sister?"

"Hmm. Interesting. We shall note that. Where do your mother and sister live, Gregor?"

"Well, if you've been following me, you should know that," Gregor said testily.

There was a heavy sigh, and suddenly a fist came out of nowhere, slamming into Gregor's gut. He slumped over, gasping for breath.

"Let us try again. Where do your mother and sister live, Gregor?"

Trying to suck in air, Gregor looked up. "You...you are KGB! Why are you questioning me?"

"We prefer the term FSB now. Last chance Gregor. Where do your mother and sister live?"

"They live in Ritterburg still, in a small house with my sisters husband and their children. I see them every few months." There. That wasn't so much.

"Yes, but you see, we have had some trouble visiting your mother and sister. We need you to take us there, Gregor. Will you do that for us?"

"Why would you want me to that?" Gregor asked, panic stricken. He couldn't take these men to his family's home. The muggle repelling wards would keep them away, and he couldn't let them kidnap his sister's family, even if Ivan was an ass.

"Because we require some witches and wizards of our own, Gregor. Your sister is just one part of a larger puzzle."

They knew. How did these men know?

"Never," Gregor spat. "I would die first."

"A noble sentiment. But, I wonder. Would you let others die?"

The light suddenly dimmed, and Gregor squinted, trying to see. There was a man in a suit across a wide table from him, two goons in the corner, one armed with a rifle, and….and a girl bound and gagged sitting next to the man in the suit.

"Sonya," Gregor gasped. "No."

His daughter's eyes were wide and full of terror. The man in the suit reached out, stroking her hair. "Yes, she is beautiful. It would be shame to mar such beauty."

He produced a piano wire with two sticks tied at the ends, and draped the wire around Sonya's neck like jewelry. "We would do it quickly, gently, so her beauty is not tarnished."

"No!" Gregor protested. "No, you cannot! Please!"

The man in the suit picked up the piano wire and slowly began to tighten it as Sonya's sobs intensified.

"I'll do it!" Gregor screamed. "I'll take you to my sister's home! Just, please! Do not harm my daughter!"

The man let go of the piano wire, leaving it tangled around Sonya's neck. "You would do that for us, Gregor Milkovich?"

"Anything," Gregor begged. "Just don't hurt my family. Please, who are you? Why are you doing this?"

The man in the suit produced an old radio set, and turned it on.

"-continuing reports indicate that hostilities have already broken out between the British authorities and these so called wizards. The BCC continues to broadcast that the magical side of things has been real all along, and living with us. Moscow has yet-"

The man turned the radio off. "We have long known that magic existed. We were the KGB. We knew everything. But we never did anything with the knowledge. We had other worries, and the party leadership did not wish to waste resources on a small fraction of the population that quietly lived out their lives without bothering anyone. We captured a few, did some experiments, but nothing came of it. But now? Now the time for hiding is over."

The man leaned toward Gregor. "And now, magic will do what I demand of it."

Gregor swallowed. "Who are you?" he asked once more.

"Vladimir Vladimirovich. You do not know who I am. Not yet. But soon, everyone will. For in this new world, he who controls magic, shall control everything."

 _Authors Note:_

 _And with that deeply disturbing look into the geopolitical scene, I am pleased to announce that the first chapter of Nymphadora Tonks: The Last Auror has at long last been posted. You can find the link in my profile, or by searching for the story through the fanfiction search bar._


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